Summer's Plight
by Knightwood
Summary: Summer's always had control issues. Now she seems to have lost all control as she finds herself at the scene of a crime with all the evidence pointing to her and no memory of how she got there. How can she prove she's innocent if she doesn't know herself?
1. Summer's Plight

**A/N:** An attempt at an RPM fic. Hope you all like it, as always any comments are welcome.

**Legal:** I do not own Power Rangers or the associated names, characters, events, places etc. Anything not covered by the above rights should be considered purely the creation of the author.

**Rating: **T for adult content, and scenes of violence.

Scott groaned loudly as Summer sank the black ball, annihilating him in their fourth straight game of pool. The bar on the RPM base was always busy at this time of the day. The majority of the staff on site had finished with their shifts, and were busy relaxing after another long day protecting the people of Corinth.

"You know maybe you should start taking lessons." Summer suggested as she put her cue away on the rack. "Maybe then you'll sink more than three balls before I slaughter you."

"Hey, I stopped trying to beat you months ago." Scott told her, racking away his own cue. "Just because you're a hustler, don't expect me to worry about it."

"You know to hustle; technically I'd need to gamble on the outcome of the game." Summer reminded him as they rejoined their friends at the table in the corner. Dillon and Flynn were sitting with an extensive collection of beer bottles, while Ziggy kept score. Flynn's cheeks were a little red by now, as the beer took effect, while Dillon seemed to be as fresh as a daisy. Summer and Scott sat down with them.

"What's happening here?" Scott asked him in a small laugh, seeing that Flynn was having fun, but was clearly a little drunk.

"Dillon bet Flynn he could match him drink for drink." Ziggy told them, holding up a stack of credits. "I'm holding the money."

Summer sat beside Dillon, pulling in close to him and whispering something in his ear. He blushed a little and spat the beer back into the bottle. Flynn put down his bottle and looked at her curiously.

"What was that all about?" He asked her.

"Ziggy, give him back his money." Summer warned him with a small giggle. "This bet's off."

"But Dillon's storming ahead!" Ziggy complained, clutching the credits defensively. "Flynn's about to lose."

"The bet's off." Dillon sighed, putting down his last bottle. "Summer told me if I didn't tell him, then she would."

"Tell me what?" Flynn asked him.

"My digestive tract isn't part of my biological systems." Dillon told him. "The alcohol never gets into my bloodstream."

"So you can't get drunk?" Flynn asked, seeming to take the joke at his expense quite well.

"I'd drown long before that happened." He responded. "Sorry Flynn, I couldn't resist."

"Well, what can I say?" Flynn laughed as he got up from the table. "I guess it's a pretty good joke."

"Where are you going?" Scott asked him.

"I think I've made enough of an arse of myself for one night." He told them. "If you'll excuse me, I'd like to get some sleep. We all have training early tomorrow."

"I think I should be going too." Ziggy told them, realising he was still holding the credits. "I should make sure he gets his money back."

"I think we should BOTH make sure he gets his money back." Scott interjected, placing a hand on Ziggy's shoulder and giving him a little glare. He kind of suspected that he might try to use Flynn's lapse in memory to get away with the credits after all. "We'll see you guys tomorrow."

"I'm not really that tired. I'd like to stick around for a while." Summer told them. "I'll see you guys tomorrow for training."

Dillon shifted a little closer to Summer as the others left. Of all the Rangers, he felt closest to her. She had been the one who had brought him into the group when he first arrived in Corinth. She had stood up for him after the Venjix technology had been discovered in his body. Even when he had tried to leave shortly after they had released him from prison, she had seen something in him. Only she had given him a chance and had faith in him, and it was the reason he liked her so much. She understood him in a way that the others didn't. So far she hadn't shared much of herself with him, but half the fun was finding out for himself. He handed her a beer bottle.

"We still have a couple of these to go." He told her. Summer smiled at him.

"You wouldn't be trying to get me drunk would you?" She asked him playfully. She and Dillon had identified with each other a lot since they had met. She had never been one to follow protocol or rules too religiously, and had a feeling that he was a lot like her.

They both had a certain headstrong, slightly confrontational air to them. It was because she could see the same defensive nature in him that she had herself, that she just knew there was more to him than a bunch of Venjix technology. The fact that he had saved her life in battle only minutes after meeting her had made her certain about her assessment that he was someone worth trusting, and he had proven himself to the others in their first battle together. Despite his attempt to leave Corinth, he had turned back when he found out they had needed his help. Despite his reservations, he would do the right thing in the end.

Summer had always been a good judge of character, and had seen a lot of good in him. Not only had he saved her from an ambush only moments after his arrival in the city, he seemed to have saved Ziggy, a guy he owed nothing to, on more than one occasion. The fact that he had technology belonging to the same system that was trying to destroy humanity meant nothing to her. She could see that he had a sense of right and wrong, and that made him human to her.

"What if I am?" He asked her. "I think it would be kind of interesting to see you cut loose."

"What are you talking about?" She asked him. She looked more than a little irritated by this statement, almost as if he had given her some kind of grave insult. She had always prided herself on being a little rebellious and carefree. Since private ownership of vehicles was practically non-existent on Corinth, nothing made her happier than having some spare time to blast through the virtually-deserted streets of the city on her motorcycle. "I cut loose all the time. You've gone on rides with me on the bike..."

"Of course I ride pillion." He interrupted her, shifting position on the seat to look directly into her eyes. "You would never give up control."

"It's my bike." She stated flatly, taking a sip. "I don't want it to get damaged."

"But I can ride." He told her. "I wouldn't damage it, you've seen me ride any time you leant it to me." He picked up a bottle himself and took a long sip, before moving closer.

"The only time you don't want to let me take the handlebars is when we're both on the bike." He told her. "That would mean giving up control and you don't like that. Even if it is to someone you trust like me."

She hated when he did this. For as long as she'd known him, she had been trying to get him to let down his walls and figure him out, to see what made him tick, and while she knew there was limitations on how much she could figure out because so much of his memory was lost to him, she still tried to get a handle on him and what was important to him.

Unfortunately, he seemed to be good at deflecting, and reversing the situation. He was able to start digging around and analysing her in the same way. She looked away for a second. There was something about his eyes, the way he looked at her that gave her the impression he could see right through her. It drove her nuts that he was able to do that, to turn the tables on her. It was even more infuriating that he seemed to be better at it than her. He was right; she had a lot of issues with being in control. She wasn't comfortable when she was relying on someone else to control her fate.

"I'm not a control freak." She protested, sinking the bottle in one go.

"Sure you're not." He laughed, finishing his own drink. He was repaid with a hard punch on the shoulder.

"What about you? You never give up control." She replied. "When you're riding pillion, I can feel how nervous you are in your grip."

"That's because I am a control freak." He replied, as he got up from the table. "Anyway, it's getting late. We should be heading back."

At that point a couple of guys came over to the table carrying pool cues.

"We saw you schooling that guy on the table earlier." One of them said to Summer extending a hand. "Would you like a game?"

Dillon gave her a little look, trying to gauge her reaction. These guys were clearly checking her out, he had noticed them watching her when she was playing with Scott, talking and laughing with each other. He could guess what their interest was, but he was sure they would be disappointed. If they thought she was going to be an easy mark, they were in for a shock. She was a good officer, and had seen just about every scam going. She wasn't likely to fall for a hustle, and she wasn't the kind of girl to just go with guys in bars without knowing them. He was sure she would say...

"OK." She answered, taking his hand and getting up, casting a little glance to Dillon. He wasn't sure what had happened, or what she was thinking. He got up with her.

"You know, we have training early tomorrow." He reminded her, taking her wrist in his hand. "We should be..."

"Well if you want to go home, don't let me stop you." Summer interrupted him. She went over to the pool table with the two strangers, joining their friend. She cast a little glance backward, catching a glimpse of the look on Dillon's face and got a little smirk to herself. She had surprised him with that little move. She knew the guys at the pool table were likely going to try their luck with her, but she wasn't interested. All she wanted was to show Dillon that he was wrong about her, and that she could let herself go. As she accepted a beer from one of them, she saw Dillon leaving. She got another little smirk to herself as she picked up a cue and took a long swig of beer. He wouldn't be calling her a control freak again anytime soon. Not when he was the one trying to dictate when they went home.

The next morning, Summer woke up, feeling sicker than she ever had in her life. It was like the worst hangover she had ever suffered, only so much harsher. Even the small amount of light coming in the gap between the curtains hurt her eyes. Her head was pounding, and she felt ill to her stomach. She had an incredible case of cotton-mouth.

As she raised her hand to her face, she realised that someone was in the bed next to her. It was then that she realised that she was not in her own apartment. She held her hand over her eyes, unable to believe what had happened. How could she have been so stupid? She had heard all the stories so many times; she couldn't believe she had been caught out like that.

She couldn't remember anything about the night beforehand. She remembered being upset that Dillon had made fun of her for being a control freak, and had met up with those three guys for a game of pool to prove him wrong. Well she had done that alright, and it might have cost her a lot more than she bargained for.

She remembered vaguely feeling light-headed and dizzy. She could remember feeling an arm around her, holding her upright. She now knew what had happened, she had been drugged. One of them must have put something in her drink.

She pulled her hand off her face, and got the biggest shock of her life. She stared at it in disbelief as she realised her hand was covered in blood. Throwing back the covers, she found her clothes were torn, and barely hanging on her body and she was covered in cuts, bruises and blood. So much that it could not possibly all have been hers. She grabbed the guy on the bed next to her and turned him over, and her heart beat faster. He was covered in blood, and a knife had been rammed into his ribcage. His glassy, lifeless eyes chilled her as she looked into them. It was one of the guys she had met up with last night.

She got off the bed and backed away from the scene of carnage in the bed. She stumbled as she tripped up and fell to the floor. She looked over to see that she had tripped over another of the guys from the bar. He seemed to be in an even worse state than the guy in the bed. She looked up and saw the third guy a short way from the bathroom.

"Somebody help me!" She screamed, retreating into the corner in her horror. There was blood everywhere, it was the only thing she could see, and the only thing she could smell. "Help me!"

She heard a pounding on the door, and recoiled in fear. She heard an energy blast, at which the door came crashing in, completely obliterated by a blaster. Law enforcement officers piled into the room, covering it with their weapons. One of them pointed a blaster straight at her, and her heart froze as she realised what it looked like. The room was full of corpses; she was injured and had clearly been in a fight of some description.

"Get your hands where I can see them!" The officer pointing the gun at her demanded aggressively. "Name!"

"S...Summer Landsdown." She stammered, beginning to reach for her pocket to get her ID.

"Keep your hands UP!" The officer screamed a little more forcefully. She put her hands above her head as she was told. "ID?"

"It's in my pocket." She told him. One of the officers fished it out, reading it.

"RPM." He told the officer with the gun. "I knew I recognised her."

"Face the wall!" He demanded. Summer turned around, placing her hands against the wall. "Spread them!"

Summer felt a few warm tears running down her face as she did what she was told. She had no idea who these men were, or where she was, much less why they had been killed. She only knew one thing for sure. Right now she was their main suspect. One of the officers ran his hands quickly over her, searching what was left of her clothing for any signs of a weapon, and seemed to satisfy himself that she had none. He forced her against the wall and snatched her hands behind her back, snapping them into a set of handcuffs.

"One of the neighbours heard a commotion in here and called us." He told her. "Summer Landsdown, you are under arrest."

Back at the RPM base, the others were busy training. Flynn took a seat on the sidelines, taking a breather. Dillon came over to him.

"Where's Summer?" He asked him. "She's never late for training."

"I haven't seen her since I went home last night." Flynn replied, looking slightly worried. All of them had been thinking much the same thing; Summer always took her responsibilities with the team very seriously, and was never late. "I thought she was with you."

"I went home a while after you left." Dillon told him. "We had kind of a stupid fight."

"Another one?" Flynn laughed, smacking him in the chest. "If you two keep this up we'll all be convinced you're into each other."

"I kind of called her a control freak." Dillon explained, ignoring Flynn's remark. He had been teasing Dillon about Summer now for a while; he was convinced they liked each other. Dillon just thought he had read too many romance novels. "She was still at the bar after I left."

"Well there you go then!" Flynn told him. "She was probably just trying to prove she wasn't. I'll bet you that right now she's at home in her apartment nursing a huge hangover."

One of the cadets came into the room, finding the team there and rushed over, almost tripping over his own feet as he ran over to Scott, saluting him.

"What's the problem cadet?" Scott greeted him. The cadet caught his breath before beginning.

"The General wanted me to keep you informed. None of you are to go to custody until further notice." He told them.

"Why not?" Flynn asked him. "What's going on?"

"Summer was arrested." He informed them. "The general said that you're not to be involved in the case."

"What's the charge?" Ziggy asked him. The cadet looked at him, his eyes betraying the seriousness of the situation.

"Three counts of homicide." He replied. "They're interviewing her as we speak."


	2. Dillon's Crusade

Summer was led into an interview room, where the Colonel and another officer were waiting. She had been subjected to numerous tests by the forensics officers, and cleaned up. Her clothes had been taken for further analysis, and she had been given a pair of plimsolls and a paper gown to wear. She moved slowly, her movements hindered by leg irons and her hands secured in front of her body by handcuffs. As she entered the interview room, she couldn't hold her head up. Colonel Truman was in the room. She had known him and Scott for a long time, and she felt like she had let them both down by ending up in this situation, even if she didn't remember how she got there.

"Take off the restraints." Colonel Truman instructed the officer bringing her into the room. "I'll take responsibility for the suspect."

He removed the restraints and left the room. Colonel Truman gestured for her to sit down. Summer did so, holding her head in her hands. She still couldn't look at the man who she considered to be almost a parent. She was sure he felt sorry for her and was supportive of her, but in her heart, all she felt from him was shame. She had destroyed every ounce of faith he had in her by going with those guys in the bar, and all over a stupid argument with Dillon.

"Would you like some water?" He asked her. She nodded wordlessly in response. He poured some water into a plastic cup and handed it to her. She took a long drink, thankful for the opportunity to finally alleviate some of the dryness in her mouth and her throat. "What happened last night?"

"I was in the bar with the others." She told him, feeling like a child being scolded. She had been so close to him for so long that the thought of going to prison scared her less than the thought of seeing his face if she ever disappointed him. "I was there quite late. I met up with three guys there after the others left and we played pool."

"How much did you have to drink?" He asked her. Summer shook her head.

"I don't remember." She told him. "I had a couple before the others left. A lot of the night is kind of hazy."

"When did you leave the bar?" He asked her, the tone in his voice indicating the hope she would have more to say. She shook her head again.

"I don't remember." She repeated. "I remember feeling pretty light-headed."

"You were drunk?" He asked her.

"No, it was more than that." She told him in a deep sigh. She still couldn't believe she had been taken in like that, but she was sure she had fallen victim to a couple of guys who didn't want to take "no" for an answer, and so had drugged her so she wouldn't be able to fight back. "I could barely stand. I zoned out after that. I think someone spiked my drink."

He pulled out three photographs and showed them to her. Summer could barely look at them. It was the three men from the bedroom. The photographs of the crime scene brought back the full horror of the scene, and made her feel sick to her stomach.

"Are these the three men from the bar?" He asked her. She nodded.

"They are." She told him. "I woke up in the room and found them like that."

"Your clothes were torn and you have extensive injuries." He reminded her. "Was there some kind of fight?"

"I don't remember." She told him, her tears beginning again. She genuinely didn't know what had happened. It seemed probable that she had been involved in a fight, but she didn't remember anything about what had happened. She wished she could tell him something else, but the more she tried to remember, the less she could. She genuinely didn't know what had happened in that apartment.

"Did they attack you?" General Truman asked her, his voice sounding a little hopeful.

"I don't know." She told him tearfully. She really wished she could say that they had attacked her and she had defended herself, but she couldn't remember what had happened much beyond when she watched Dillon giving up on her and walking out the door. "I'm sorry, I just don't know. I...I think they might have, but I don't know."

"Was anyone else in the apartment?" He asked her.

"I told you, I don't know!" She screamed, becoming more and more frustrated by the questioning as it went on. She looked to the Colonel a little apologetically. "I don't remember leaving the bar or anything after that until I woke up."

He sighed and took off his glasses. He liked Summer; she had been friends with his son for a long time, but things didn't look good for her. As much as he hated doing this to her, he couldn't treat her favourably.

"Sir, I want to ask..." She stammered, looking a little warily at the other officer in the room. Colonel Truman gestured to the door.

"Leave us." He told him. "I'll call you back in a second."

"Sir?" He asked him. Colonel Truman looked into his eyes sternly. The other officer got up and left the room. Colonel Truman looked at her sympathetically. He had some idea of what she wanted to ask him. "Was...was I...?"

"No." He interrupted her mercifully, preventing her from having to ask. "Your injuries were consistent with a sexual assault, but they were prevented from going through with the act. It looks like they were killed while they tried to restrain you."

He rounded the table and held her in his arms warmly. He hated to think she had to face this situation.

"I promised you that I would protect you." He reminded her. "What you're worried about didn't happen."

Summer felt only a little relief at this news. It didn't do anything to make the case against her look any better, but at least she knew they hadn't managed to take that last little piece of dignity from her.

The other officer came back into the room, carrying a clip board and handed it to General Truman as he sat back down. Colonel Truman read the report, before turning to the other officer.

"Are you sure?" Colonel Truman asked him. "The lab is certain of these results?" The other officer nodded gravely. Colonel Truman turned back to Summer and let out a sigh.

"Summer, if you can tell us anything, please do so." He said in a tone that betrayed his feelings. She was, if anything, the daughter he never had. He hated to see her in this situation. "This isn't helping."

"I wish I knew." She whispered, drying her eyes. "I just...don't remember anything."

"The tox screen of your blood sample has returned." He told her. "It shows you had alcohol in your system..."

"I told you I had a few drinks." She responded shamefully. She was far from a habitual drinker, but Colonel Truman had been in her life for so long that his opinion of her meant a lot to her. She couldn't bear the thought of him getting the idea she was paralytic and had gone home with a bunch of guys she didn't know after everything he had done for her.

"The level of alcohol found in your blood was not sufficient to cause a blackout." He told her regretfully. "There were no traces of any other foreign substances in your body."

"That's not possible!" She shrieked; the desperation in her voice obvious. "I can't remember anything!"

"The knife from the scene of the crime has your fingerprints on it." He informed her. "Summer, you're under arrest for the first degree murder of Paul White, Terry Bolland and Mark Gallows. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand your rights as they have been read to you?"

Summer nodded her head sadly. She couldn't believe this was happening. It was a nightmare, it just had to be. How could this be happening? Her fingerprints were on the knife. The tox screen had come back negative for sedatives, and it appeared as though the men had tried to rape her, and in response she had murdered them. Was it possible she had lashed out and killed them in an attempt to defend herself? The more she tried to remember, the more confused she became. It truly was worse than any nightmare she'd ever had. Looking at Colonel Truman, she noticed he couldn't look her in the eye. She was sure he was ashamed of her. Nothing could have hurt her more at that moment.

"I have to warn you that there is a lot of media interest in this case." Colonel Truman informed her. "We're worried about a backlash over this. There is a lot of ill feeling surrounding this case. For your own safety, you will be remanded in custody until your trial."

"I understand." Summer told him.

"We'll sort you out with something else to wear." He told her. Summer smiled a little at this. It wasn't a huge comfort, but there really wasn't much he could say to her that would make this any better. It wasn't much, but in his own way he was letting her know he supported her, even if the evidence against her did not look good.

"Thank you sir." She replied as she got up from the table. The custody officer came back into the room, carrying the chains. Summer didn't try to resist as he secured them around her wrists and her ankles, before leading her away.

As soon as she'd left, Colonel Truman pulled off his glasses and wiped his eyes of tears. He didn't want to see this happen to her, but he knew that enforcing the laws of Corinth was one of his main responsibilities. He looked to the sergeant standing in the room.

"You're dismissed." He told him.

"Colonel, if you're upset..."

"Sergeant, you're dismissed!" He barked a little too forcefully. The young officer left the room quickly, leaving the Colonel alone with his thoughts. He would never want her to face this, not after what happened before. He had protected her for so long, but he knew the past was going to come out. Everyone would hear about the incident that had almost broken her, and it was sure to make the case against her, if anything, more solid. As much as he hated the thought of what might happen, he couldn't see any way around it. He was almost certain that she'd be found guilty.

"I'm sorry Summer." He whispered to himself. "I tried."

Later in the night, Summer was lying alone in her cell. She had been given a pair of blue denims and a pale grey T-shirt, standard attire for remand prisoners to wear. It wasn't much, but it was a hell of a lot better than the paper robes she had been given by the forensic examiners. She was stirred out of her sleep by a sound in the hall. She looked up to see Dillon standing there.

"What are you doing here?" She asked him, running to the bars. She reached through the bars, taking his hand in hers.

"I wanted to see you." He replied. "Colonel Truman told us that custody is off-limits, but you know how much that means to me."

"Thanks." She told him.

"Nice outfit." He joked. "I thought Yellow wasn't your colour, but grey definitely doesn't flatter you."

"I'll speak to my wardrobe department about that." She said sarcastically. "Personally I really hate the shoes."

"Well you are on suicide watch." He reminded her. "They couldn't give you shoe laces or anything else you might try to harm yourself with."

"Well at least I got a room to myself." She told him gesturing into the cell. "Since I helped put a lot of the inmates in here, I'm in isolation for my own safety."

"Summer, what happened?" He asked her. She shook her head in a defeated manner. He hated to see her like this; she looked like she had all but given up on this situation.

"I don't know." She told him. "After you left, everything went blank. I remember feeling light-headed and trying to leave. The next thing I know, I'm waking up in a room full of butchered corpses."

"You don't remember anything?" He asked her. "Were you drugged?"

"Not according to the tox screen." She told him. "I had a couple of beers, but nowhere near enough to have that effect on me."

She squeezed his hand a little, wiping away a tear.

"I understand how it must be for you." She told him. "I never understood before, but I'm freaking out over this and I'm only missing a few hours. I can't imagine how much worse it must be to be missing out on everything."

"You never miss what you never had." He told her, trying to get back on the subject in hand. "What are they saying happened?"

"My injuries suggest they..." She couldn't bring herself to tell him, but as she looked at him, she knew he understood what she meant. "They were killed in the struggle."

"They think you did it?" Dillon asked her.

"The door was locked from the inside." She told him. "The knife had my fingerprints on it. There was no one else in the room. Of course they think it was me! Who else could have done it?"

"No, you couldn't have done it." He told her, reaching a hand through the bars and touching her cheek.

"But the evidence..."

"I don't care about the evidence." He assured her. "I know you, and you aren't capable of something like that."

"I'm not so sure." Summer murmured, her tears beginning again. "Maybe I wouldn't do that if I was thinking straight, but when I was drugged? If I was desperate...?"

"No, you couldn't have done it." Dillon told her flatly, wiping a tear away from her cheek with his thumb. "I'm going to prove that."

He turned to leave, but she kept a hold of his hand. He turned back to her to see her greeting him with a weak smile.

"For what it's worth, you're right about one thing." She told him. "I'm not in control, and it scares the hell out of me."

"We'll get you out of this." He responded, dropping her hand. "I promise."

He turned from her and left, making his way quietly from the cell block. He met Ziggy in the hall.

"I told you to be quick!" He whispered in a panic. "We're not meant to be here! I still can't believe you talked me into hacking the security system to get you in here!"

"I needed to see her." Dillon told him. "There's no way she did this."

"We all support her in this." Ziggy replied. "But we have to be serious. The evidence..."

"I don't give a damn about the evidence Ziggy!" He snapped. "I saw the look in her eyes; I know she isn't capable of doing something like this. One way or another, I'm going to prove it."

"How?" Ziggy asked him.

"By doing my job and looking for the evidence." He replied. "Now, you can go back home and wait until the court case, or you can come with me and do something to help her."

"Willy Wonka strikes again." Ziggy sighed, following him from the building. "Why do I get the feeling the Venjix Barrier's going to look like a cake walk by comparison?"

They arrived back at the garage, finding Flynn under his jeep, working on something, while Scott was pacing, ranting about something. Seeing the look in his eyes as they arrived back, Ziggy could guess what he was talking about, but opted to pull out of it. Scott and Dillon always clashed heads anyway, and he was used to just retreating to the sidelines and letting them duke it out.

"Where the hell have you been?" Scott snarled as he got into Dillon's face. Ziggy just backed off a fair way while Flynn got off the floor. While they normally clashed heads, it was usually not serious. In a state like this, it was obvious that leaving the two of them alone together would only lead to bloodshed. "We needed..."

"I had my morpher." Dillon cut him off casually, taking a seat and crossing his feet on a table. "If you wanted me..."

"We're not allowed to get involved in the case!" Scott snapped, swiping Dillon's feet off the table. Ziggy backed into the wall, seeing the look in their eyes.

"I am involved in the case, I'm her friend!" Dillon said coldly. "What's your excuse?"

With that, Scott launched himself at the Black Ranger, slamming fists into his face and body wherever he could. Flynn threw himself between them, forcing them apart as they threw punches at each other.

"You aren't doing a damn thing to help her!" Dillon snarled as he struggled to get to him.

"Summer means the world to me you sanctimonious asshole!" Scott barked as he reached an arm past Flynn and smashed it into Dillon's face.

"Pack it in the pair of you!" Flynn yelled as he shoved Scott onto his ass while keeping Dillon behind him. It took every ounce of strength he had to keep them apart. "I hate what's happening too, but this isn't helping! If either of you throw one more punch, I swear I'll kick the living shit out the two of you!"

They both realised that he had a point. Both of them were focussing on their own pain, and couldn't appreciate others were hurting too. Scott stormed off in a terrible mood.

"That's right, walk away..."

"If you want to keep your teeth straight, end that statement RIGHT NOW!" Flynn warned Dillon. He backed down a little. He didn't have any real problems with the Blue Ranger, and if anything, he kind of respected his level-headed attitude. It wasn't often he would threaten violence. "This is about Summer!"

"Scott doesn't..."

"I'd advise you to stop there!" Flynn warned him. "I'd slap the piss out of you for saying it. If Scott was here, all hell would break loose if you dared to say it."

"What happened?" Dillon asked him. Flynn looked to the ceiling for inspiration.

"This wouldn't be the first time someone's taken an interest in Summer." He sighed. "You know...like that!"

"She was..."

"No!" Flynn interrupted him. "It never got that far, but it almost did. She was young, and someone tried to take advantage."

"So what's with..."

"Scott and Summer have been best friends for years!" He interrupted him. "Colonel Truman almost looks on her like a daughter."

Dillon slumped against the wall with a deep sigh as he realised his mistake.

"I suggested he didn't care..."

"There's no one Scott cares for more." Flynn informed him. "Well, no one alive anyway."

"So what happened?" Dillon asked him.

"I really don't know." Flynn told him honestly. "All I know is someone gave her hassle, and Colonel Truman sorted it out. Other than that, they kept it between themselves."

"Who..."

"Summer keeps a lot of stuff close to her chest." Flynn interrupted him. "Maybe there's a reason. I'd respect her wishes if I were you."

"I would except for one thing." Dillon told him. "She's being arrested for murder! She'll be in prison for life if she's convicted! I need to know anything that could help!"

"If she wanted people to know what happened, she'd tell them." Flynn responded. "I have ideas, but she hasn't told me what happened. I figure if she wants me to know..."

"You don't always want people to know." Dillon cut him off as he left the room. "Thanks Flynn."

With that, he turned and left. Ziggy came out of the corner he'd be hiding in and came to Flynn's side.

"I think you should go with him." Flynn told him. "He's likely to do something stupid."

"What makes you say that?" Ziggy asked.

"It's Dillon." He replied. "I'd never call him stupid, but let's face it. He isn't exactly known for thinking about things too deeply before he does them."

"Point taken." Ziggy agreed as he left quickly. Flynn sat on the stairs and held his head in his hands.

"I really hope you can control him." He said to himself. "Otherwise, he'll end up doing more harm than good."


	3. Summer's Trial

Summer was sitting on her bed when Colonel Truman came into the holding area. She looked up a little, but found herself still unable to look him in the eye.

Summer, they're ready for you in the courtroom." He informed her. The Custody Sergeant next to him pulled out a pair of handcuffs, though he found himself stopped by the Colonel. "She won't run."

Summer got to her feet and followed on as the Colonel led her down the hallway towards the courtroom. She didn't register the jeers and taunts of the other inmates as she made her way to the court room. The only thing she could think about was Colonel Truman's cold and distant manner. She still hated to think that she had let him down. Colonel Truman stopped outside the door and grabbed her wrist gently.

"I can't be part of the proceedings." He informed her regretfully. "I'll be in the public gallery with the others."

"Sir." She called after him as he started to leave. He turned back to her, seeing her shivering slightly as she prepared to face the court. "I'm scared. I'm really scared."

He came back to her and hugged her for support. He wished there was more he could do for her, but given his relationship with her, he was not even allowed to be a part of the proceedings. He turned and left her, making his way towards the stairs to the public gallery. The Custody Sergeant took her by the arm and led her into the court room.

She had never been on this side of the proceedings before, and she'd always hoped she never would be. It was only now that she appreciated how intimidating the whole scene was. The stands towered over her making her feel small and insignificant. Several members of the public called out from the public gallery as she made her way to her seat in the dock. She looked to the floor as they grew louder. Colonel Truman had told her that the press had gotten wind of the story and that the public had turned on her. Having trusted her with their defence for so long, hearing that she was a murderer had caused them to feel like she had betrayed them.

"Will the defendant please rise?" The judge announced as he took his seat at the bench. Summer got to her feet and looked up at him. She could see Scott and Flynn in the public gallery behind him. She couldn't help feeling let down that Dillon wasn't there. She needed her friends right now. "Are you Summer Landsdown?"

"I am." She replied, confirming her name for the court.

"Summer Landsdown, you stand accused of the first degree homicide of Mark Gallows, Terry Bolland and Paul White. How do you plead?"

Normally she would have thought that was a pretty straightforward question, but the truth was that she didn't know if she had killed them or not. She still couldn't remember anything about that night. Under the circumstances, she would have loved just to know whether or not she did it.

"Not guilty." She replied eventually. It was really the only answer she could give. Not knowing was the worst part. She had already resigned herself to the fact that they had attacked her, and that it seemed like she had defended herself. She was a skilled fighter as a result of her training. Sober, she would never have taken things that far. She wouldn't have needed to use the knife. Of course she obviously hadn't been in her right mind, whatever she had been spiked with had left her with no memory, but she could remember briefly feeling like she was drunk. If she had remained in that state, she couldn't vouch for whether or not she would lash out to defend herself. She wouldn't have been able to fight them effectively, if she had been desperate, she may have grabbed the knife, she just didn't know.

"You may be seated." He instructed her. She took her seat as he looked through some notes. "Prosecution may call their first witness."

The prosecution attorney stood up, and began pacing the room. Summer recognised him from the times she had been involved in trials before. Kevin Marshall was a skilled lawyer, and seldom lost a case. He was a tall, slender man with black hair which he wore gelled back, making him look like something from the 70's. He wore a simple black business suit.

"Prosecution calls Stephen Walker." He announced. Summer sat silently as they prepared to begin the case against her. She looked over to the defence attorney, and immediately wished she hadn't. The way he sat chewing the end of his pencil didn't inspire confidence. Then again, given how strong the case against her was, she couldn't blame him for lacking confidence. This wasn't going to be a trial; it was going to be an execution.

Meanwhile, Dillon and Ziggy arrived in the apartment block of the victims.

"OK, we were told to stay away from this investigation, and you're going to the crime scene?" Ziggy remarked as they stepped off the elevator. "Are you completely insane?"

"I guess so." Dillon replied as they made their way down the corridor. "I didn't ask you to come with me Ziggy. If you're worried about getting in trouble, go home. I'm sure I'm going to get in trouble."

"No, this is beyond trouble. This is a one-way ticket back into prison!" Ziggy warned him. "Come on, we both want to help Summer, but this isn't it. She's being tried as we speak. We should go and support her."

"You support her; I'm going to be a little more proactive." He responded as they arrived outside the apartment. The door still hadn't been replaced, and was cordoned off with crime scene tape. Two soldiers waited outside the door to keep people from going into the crime scene. As they approached, one of the soldiers held up a hand.

"This is a crime scene, no one gets in." He told them.

"I want to have a look." Dillon stated flatly. "There may be some evidence in there."

"Sorry, no one goes in." The soldier replied.

"Ummmm...my friend here really isn't good with being told 'no'." Ziggy warned him. "I'd reconsider; he really isn't in much of a mood to be messed with."

"I'd listen to him." Dillon chipped in. "I'm going into that room."

He raised his blaster and his partner did likewise. Dillon just smiled at them.

"Not a good move." Ziggy said as he turned his back. He didn't need to watch to know that the soldiers were about to be beaten down.

Back at the court room, the prosecution had finished with the first witness, the barman who was on duty the night of the murders. The surveillance cameras on the premises hadn't been working that night, but he testified to seeing her leaving with the victims. She didn't need to look at the jury to realise they thought she had gotten drunk and left with them. Her own attorney, however, had not done her any favours. They couldn't deny that she had left with them; the only thing in dispute was whether she left with them willingly or not.

"Your honour, I'd like to call Colonel Truman to the stand." The prosecutor announced. Summer went pale as she heard the name. She knew he'd want to help her, but while he was under oath, he couldn't help what he said about her. Colonel Truman made his way to the stand and was sworn in by the bailiff.

"How do you know the defendant?" Kevin asked him.

"Summer Landsdown is one of the finest troops I've ever served with." He responded. "She's been a friend of my family for many years."

"Would you say your relationship is close?" Kevin continued.

"I would consider her a member of my own family." He informed the court.

"Would you say that you believe her to be the kind of person to seek casual sexual encounters?" Kevin asked him.

"Objection your honour!" Her attorney called out. "This is a murder trial. Not a forum for commenting on my client's lifestyle or insulting her."

"It's a valid question." Kevin interrupted him. "I'm trying to ascertain the defendant's character."

"Over ruled." The judge stated. "Answer the question please."

"No, I do not believe that." Colonel Truman replied.

"Is there any reason in particular?" Kevin asked him. "A certain incident in her past perhaps?"

"I'm not sure I follow what you're asking me." Colonel Truman replied.

"Then let me clarify." Kevin said with a smile. "What happened between the defendant and Ronan Wells?"

He looked to Summer a little apologetically. He had hoped that this wouldn't be brought up, but he knew that was too much to hope for. A few tears came to her eyes as the memory came back to her.

"Ronan Wells was a training officer attached to my unit." Colonel Truman told him. "He trained Summer when she was a cadet."

"He resigned, didn't he?" Kevin asked. "Would you care to explain to the court what happened?"

"Summer came to me one evening and informed me that Ronan Wells had been making inappropriate advances towards her." He responded. "She told me that he had suggested they begin a relationship, and when she turned him down, he started to harass her. He gave her negative appraisals and threatened to have her removed from the unit if she didn't respond to his advances."

Summer put her face in her hands and wept. It had been almost three years since it had happened, but the memories were still so vivid to her, it was as if they happened only a few days ago. It was one of the reasons she was so reluctant to trust others.

"So you dismissed him for harassment?" Kevin asked him. "There was no record of disciplinary procedures."

"No disciplinary action was taken against him because Summer never made a complaint." Colonel Truman told the court. "By the time it was all over, she couldn't face a trial so she didn't report the issue. I told Ronan that I would be observing him very closely for any signs of similar behaviour. He chose to resign as a result."

"So he and Ms. Landsdown never met again?" He asked. Summer looked up at the Colonel with tears streaming down her face. Her eyes begged him wordlessly not to continue. This was the part of the story that he swore he would never tell anyone. She couldn't even tell her best friend Scott about that night. He sighed and shook his head. She knew he didn't want to, but there was no way he could refuse to answer. He was under oath, he had no choice.

"About a fortnight after he resigned, Ronan attacked her." He told the court. "He beat her badly, and he tried to rape her. Fortunately I was in the area and was able to stop him."

Summer looked up to the gallery where she could see Scott and Flynn looking at her in disbelief. They knew about the harassment, but they didn't know about the attack. She had never been able to tell anyone about it. The only reason Colonel Truman knew was because he was there.

"Again, I can find no record of charges being filed." Kevin stated. "Are you telling me that the defendant, a woman you consider to be a member of your own family, was almost raped and you did nothing about it?"

"I did something about it." Colonel Truman replied. "Summer couldn't face bringing it all up in court and opted not to press charges. I, however, was not so forgiving. I politely informed Mr. Wells that if he came within 100 miles of Summer again, I would kill him."

"Well, threats aside, what do you think this incident did to Ms. Landsdown's mental state?" He asked. Colonel Truman looked at her again a little apologetically. He knew he was doing nothing to help her case, but he couldn't lie under oath.

"It very nearly destroyed her." He responded. "It took her a long time to get over that."

"You saw the injuries on the defendant's body after the murders." Kevin continued. "What would you say those injuries indicated?"

"They were consistent with a sexual assault." He sighed.

"After what happened to the defendant before, and given her level of training. Do you feel that she would defend herself if she was in that situation again?" Kevin continued. "Perhaps even with lethal force if necessary?"

"Objection your honour!" Summer's attorney called out. "Counsel is attributing guilt."

"Withdrawn." Kevin replied. "No more questions your honour."

Summer buried her face in her hands. This had been the most devastating blow to her case yet. She would never allow anyone to take her dignity like Wells had. She would fight with every ounce of strength in her body rather than allow anyone to do that to her. Of course the only question she couldn't answer was would she have killed to prevent it?

Back at the crime scene, Dillon was looking around the room, hoping for some inspiration as to how he could prove that Summer was innocent. The bodies had been removed, but the apartment was still covered in blood.

"Dillon, there's nothing here." Ziggy told him. "We've been here over an hour, there's nothing here."

"There has to be Ziggy." Dillon told him. "The investigation team had to have missed something."

"Look, I don't want Summer to go to jail either, but there's nothing here." Ziggy repeated. "Let's go before we get into any more trouble."

"Why did the troops come to the apartment?" Dillon asked him. "Who called them?"

"The caller was anonymous." Ziggy reminded him. "He said he heard noises coming from the apartment and called law enforcement."

Ziggy suddenly got a look on his face that indicated he'd thought of something. He looked at the pieces of the door the troops had blasted open to get in.

"Dillon, I think she was set up." Ziggy told him. "More than that, I think whoever made that call is in on it."

"What makes you so sure?" Dillon asked him. Ziggy gestured to Dillon that he wanted him to follow him. He went a few doors down the hall and pressed the door bell. An elderly lady answered the door.

"Can I help you?" She asked them. Ziggy held up an ID card.

"RPM, can I borrow your door for a second?" He asked her. "Dillon, wait there."

Dillon let out an impatient sigh and waited outside while Ziggy stepped inside. He pressed the door close button and started to sing.

"I am the very model of a modern..." His voice was cut off as the door closed. He opened the door again, finding Dillon with a small smile on his face.

"The doors are soundproof." He commented. Ziggy nodded excitedly.

"All the apartments are soundproof." He replied. "The troopers had to blast the door open to get in. There's no way the neighbours would have heard anything happening in the apartment."

"That means whoever called them..."

"Must have already known what had happened." Ziggy interrupted him. "Dillon, at least one other person was involved."

"We need to find out who made that call." He replied. "Ziggy, you're a genius!"

"You're only just figuring that out?" He joked as they left the apartment block quickly. "So we tell the court..."

"We haven't got enough evidence to clear her." Dillon reminded him. "Until we do, we can't say anything. So far the only advantage we have over the scumbag who did this is the fact he thinks he's gotten away with it."

Back at the courtroom, the rest of the trial just seemed to blur past. Summer sank into her seat as her story took blow after devastating blow. By the time the jurors had left to confer, she was in no doubt that there were only three people in the court room who believed her when she said she didn't remember anything. The jury came back in, taking their place on the stand.

"Will the defendant please rise?" The judge instructed her. Summer did as she was told, getting to her feet and facing the jury. "Has the jury reached a verdict on which they are all agreed?"

"We have your honour." The foreman announced as he stood up.

"On the charge of homicide in the first degree in relation to Paul White, do you find the defendant guilty, or not guilty?" He asked the foreman.

"Guilty." He replied. Summer felt a tear beginning to run down her face. She looked up to the gallery where Scott and Flynn stood, dumbfounded by the verdict.

"On the charge of homicide in the first degree in relation to Terry Bolland, do you find the defendant guilty, or not guilty?" The judge continued.

"Guilty." The foreman said again. By now Summer had to fight every instinct to just collapse on the floor in a heap and cry.

"Finally, on the charge of homicide in the first degree in relation to Mark Gallows, do you find the defendant guilty, or not guilty?" He asked the foreman.

"We find the defendant guilty as charged on all counts." The foreman replied.

"That's a load of bollocks!" Flynn roared from the public gallery. Scott grabbed him, trying to restrain him. He didn't believe the verdict any more than Flynn did, but he knew this wouldn't help. Flynn looked like he was ready to jump the barrier and try to get her out himself. "She never did anything wrong!"

"Order!" The judge yelled as he smacked his gavel repeatedly on the bench. "I will have order in this court!"

Flynn finally backed down and took his seat. Scott leaned over, saying something to him to reassure him. The judge turned back to Summer, looking down on her. She felt like a little girl about to be told off by her father in that moment. She stood, awaiting his sentence.

"Summer Landsdown, you have been convicted of three counts of murder by a jury of your peers." He began. "While you have served and protected Corinth, and many citizens owe their lives to you, we must make an example of you to demonstrate that crimes of this magnitude will not be tolerated. I therefore sentence you to life imprisonment, without the possibility of parole. Bailiff, remove the prisoner."

The bailiff came over to Summer, handcuffing her hands behind her back and started to lead her from the courtroom as the public gallery erupted in raucous applause and cheer at the verdict. She took one last look up to her friends. She always knew that this was the likely outcome. The case against her was so strong that it was a foregone conclusion. She was going to jail, and there wasn't a thing her friends or Colonel Truman could do about it. She was on her own, for the rest of her life.


	4. Summer's Hell

Summer was led from the courtroom into the street after the trial, and was immediately surrounded by guards. It would normally only be necessary to have two or three guards to escort a prisoner to a transport vehicle, but the controversial nature of her trial had led to an incredible public backlash. The streets were swarming with civilians there to voice their disgust that one of the people who had been charged with their defence had turned out to be nothing more than a multiple murderer.

"Rot in hell!" One woman screamed as she reached through the barricade in an attempt to grab her.

"Kick her out of the dome!" One man yelled, throwing an egg, striking her in the side of the head, feeling the cold, wet centre running down her face and neck. She had to turn her face as a couple of soldiers wrestled him to the ground, and began pounding on him ferociously.

She always had problems with that side of law enforcement. It was so essential that the population was kept running smoothly that only the more serious crimes were punished by imprisonment. Since most people lived in overcrowded accommodation and worked in tedious jobs they hated out of necessity, frustration and boredom led to petty crimes like breach of the peace and vandalism were commonplace. They were often not even reported, with the military would usually hand out a stiff beating and send them on their way. She hated to think that he was being beaten because of her, but all things considered, he was the lucky one. She knew what lay in store for her.

She was bundled into the back of the transport vehicle, where one of the guards chained her handcuffs to the seat. He locked leg irons around her ankles, securing her to the seat on the transport vehicle.

"I hope you're comfortable." He said a little coldly, his disgust obvious in his tone. "We'll get you to your new home shortly."

He looked around to make sure no one else was in the back with him and grabbed her hair roughly, threatening to rip it from her head. He pulled out a picture of a young girl and shoved it into her face.

"Do you want to know who this is?" He asked her. "This is Jessica, my little girl. She's 8 years old!"

He yanked her hair roughly, forcing her to look up at the picture as she tried to look away.

"You were her favourite; she wanted to be just like you. She dyed her hair to look like you. Do you know what she'd been doing for the last few days? She's been crying her eyes out every night because of you!" He shoved her head aside and punched her hard in the stomach. "Do you know what it's like trying to tell an 8 year old girl her idol's a murderer? I wish we still had the death penalty. Nothing would have given me greater pleasure than to take you out myself!"

He punched her in the stomach again, before leaving the vehicle and locking the doors behind her. In many ways she wasn't surprised by his behaviour, and could understand it. To many she had betrayed the trust they'd placed in her. She was sure that he was going to be far from the worst she'd face. There was so much bad feeling among the people of the city, she was sure most of them would have turned their backs on her. Not to mention what would happen to her when she finally ended up at the prison. She and the others had been instrumental in putting a lot of the inmates inside, so there was no way she'd end up being imprisoned in a wing where no one had a grudge to settle.

The vehicle pulled into the complex, and massive steel doors slammed shut behind it with a horrendous finality. She looked around, seeing into the yard where the prisoners were currently in the exercise yard. They all had a story, some tale as to how they ended up here, but in this place they all merged into a single, faceless mass. They were all dressed identically in blue jeans with grey t-shirts, bearing their prison identification number. She found her eyes drawn to another common factor among the prisoners. They all wore metal collars around their necks. Another factor of law enforcement on Corinth was those tracking collars.

Since resources couldn't be spared, it was deemed to be nonsensical to waste food rations on prisoners who contributed nothing to society. It was then that the corrections board came up with a solution to the problem. Prisoners were released for a few hours each day to work on menial tasks to free up the rest of the population for more essential jobs. Of course in order to make sure the prisoners could be retrieved, they had to be tracked electronically. That was where the collars came in. Every prisoner, once convicted, would be fitted with a collar that was fitted with a GPS tracking system that allowed the prison authorities to find them anywhere in the colony. Escape was impossible.

Several prisoners pointed to the transport vehicle and rushed over to the fences, pointing and staring as they saw her face through the window, and she knew she had been identified. As the vehicle was finally cleared to make its way through the security checkpoint, she was under no further doubt. She had never been religious, but she knew exactly where she was. She was in Hell.

Ziggy and Dillon arrived back at The Garage, finding Scott and Flynn sitting on the stairs. They both looked completely dejected after hearing the verdict read against Summer. Scott got off the stairs and crossed over to Dillon, the anger obvious in his face.

"Where the hell were you two?" He snapped in his anger. "Summer needed you, and you were nowhere in sight! What was so important that you couldn't be there for her when she needed you?"

"If you must know, we were trying to find evidence to prove she didn't do it!" Dillon told him calmly. "We figured that would help her more than just sitting in a courtroom feeling sorry for her while she was sent down for something she didn't do."

Scott punched him hard in the jaw, sending him to the floor. Flynn grabbed him and shoved him aside while Ziggy grabbed Dillon.

"I've warned both of you before, we all care about Summer!" Flynn yelled, staying between them. He rounded on Scott. "Go and cool off!"

"But Dillon..."

"GO!" Flynn snapped, pointing away. Scott turned quickly and left them, slamming the door to his room as he went. Flynn turned back to Dillon and let out a sigh. "Summer was found guilty. She's been sent down for good."

"All the more reason we need to figure this out." Dillon told him.

"Look, something came up. Something you should know about." Flynn stated. "Summer never told us this, but it seems like this isn't the first time someone's tried to take advantage..."

"You already told us that." Dillon interrupted him sharply.

"I didn't know the full details, only that one of her instructors harassed her while she was training." Flynn explained. He pulled Dillon a little closer. "It turns out he went a lot further than that."

He sat on the stairs and looked up at him.

"Almost three years ago he attacked her. He tried to force himself on her." Flynn informed him. "If it wasn't for Colonel Truman, he would have succeeded."

Dillon took a seat by Flynn's work bench as he heard this new detail. He had called her a control freak; he had made fun of her for not wanting to trust someone else with her fate. Now that attitude made a whole lot more sense. Someone had almost taken that from her in the worst way. He could understand her having trust issues after something like that. He understood that she would never want to lose control to someone like that again.

"That looks pretty bad." Dillon commented. "I guess the jury thought that she freaked out when they tried to attack her..."

"That's pretty much what they thought." He replied.

"There's only one problem with that scenario." Ziggy chipped in. "At least one more person was involved, which means somewhere out there someone knows what really happened."

"How do you know this?" Flynn asked him. "The CSI unit checked all the evidence..."

"They missed out one detail." Ziggy interrupted him. "Paul White's apartment was sound proof."

"But the team only moved in after an anonymous phone call claiming to have heard a commotion from the apartment." He gasped as he realised what Ziggy was getting at. "The only way anyone would hear what happened was if they were in the apartment."

"Other than that, the only way anyone would know to call the authorities is if they already knew what happened." Dillon concluded. "We need to find out who made that call."

"You do realise that we're not supposed to get involved in this case right?" Flynn asked them.

"It's a bit too late for that." Ziggy commented.

"I'm not stopping until Summer's out of that prison." Dillon told him. "I owe it to her."

"I just wanted to make sure we all know what we're getting into." Flynn replied, making his way over to the work bench and accessing his computer. "Ziggy, you're good with computers right?"

"I'm way ahead of you." Ziggy stated as he began tapping away on the system. "I'll have a phone trace coming right up."

Summer felt like a piece of meat as she was run through the procedure. She had never really thought about what prisoners were subjected to as they were checked in. She had been subjected to the humiliation of a strip search and a health examination. The only thing she was grateful for was the opportunity to take a shower following the egg attack outside the courtroom. She was led from the shower room in her underwear to the Custody Sergeant's desk. She was a tall, broad woman, with a stern expression. She eyed Summer up and down critically, like she was something scraped from the bottom of her shoe. Summer looked around, unable to look anyone in the eye as she was taken past all the guards, looking at her and was pointedly aware of her near nakedness. She was sure she was bright red in her embarrassment.

"Summer Landsdown." The Custody Sergeant read out from the check in log. "Well, I guess this is our new celebrity."

There was a sarcastic laugh from the guards around the room. She leaned across the table towards Summer, and hooked her nightstick under her chin, lifting her face enough to look into her eyes.

"I hope you don't think that'll earn you any special treatment Ranger." She sneered in her disgust. She placed a bag on the table. "You've been issued three t-shirts, two pairs of jeans, one pair of plimsolls. Sign here please."

Summer signed the document confirming that she had received her clothing. The Custody Sergeant pointed to a corner.

"You can change over there." She instructed her. Summer was a little grateful for the opportunity to get dressed at last. She didn't think she'd ever gotten dressed so quickly, but in this instance, it was one of the few things she could do to regain any kind of dignity. As soon as she was dressed, the Custody Sergeant gestured for her to return to the desk. She produced a collar from beneath her desk.

"Lift up your hair." She demanded. Summer did as she was told. As the collar was fastened around her neck and activated, she felt her heart sinking. Now there was no denying it. This was no nightmare, it was real. She really had become the property of the state. She wasn't a person anymore, only an identification number.

"Take her to her cell." She said sternly to one of the other guards. "Enjoy your stay."

One of the guards grabbed her by the upper arm and dragged her down the hall. She held the bag with her few meagre belongings to her chest as he led her past the other inmates, while he explained the routine that would dictate the rest of her life.

"Wake up call's at 5AM, breakfast is in the mess hall at 5:30. Work assignments are handed out by your wing officer at 6AM. You will be taken to your work assignment, and back from your work assignment by prison transport ONLY." He explained. "Dinner will be served in the mess hall at 6PM, and you will be back in your cell for lights out at 8PM. At all other times, you will be restricted to the recreation area, exercise hall, library or your cell. If you are found anywhere out with these areas without express permission, you will face disciplinary action, do you understand?"

"I understand." She replied as he took her to her cell.

"Mouse, you're getting a roommate at last." He announced to a girl in the cell. The book that concealed her face dropped a little nervously as he said this. She was a tiny woman, around the five foot mark, and maybe 90 pounds dripping wet from the shower. She had shoulder length brown hair, and thick glasses. She shook nervously whenever anyone looked at her, and she all but jumped six feet in the air when the guard spoke to her. Summer could guess why she was called Mouse. Between her tiny stature and her nervous disposition, no one could have looked less like they belonged in this place. She was like a rodent that had wandered into a lion's den. "I'll leave you two to get acquainted."

Summer sat on the bed and placed her bag there, holding her head in her hands. Mouse approached her.

"So what do they call you?" She asked in a voice so weak that it barely carried over to her. Summer just looked up at her.

"Summer." She responded. The tiny woman's eyes opened wide.

"You're Summer?" She asked her. "That means..."

"Yes, I was the Yellow Ranger." She sighed, lying back on the bed. "How about you, what were you before you came here?"

"I was a librarian." She replied softly. "You're in for the big one aren't you?"

"I am." Summer answered as a tear leaked down the side of her face as she lay on the bed. "I'm never getting out of here."

Meanwhile as the guard made his way back down the hall, he stopped by another inmate's cell. He waved her over. She made her way over to the bars slowly.

"Morris, would you like to earn yourself a couple of treats?" He asked her, sliding a pack of tobacco between the bars.

"I'm listening." She replied quietly, taking the contraband.

"The Warden's taking a real interest in this new prisoner." He told her. "Why don't you and some of your friends make her feel welcome?"

"No problem." She told him with a sick little smile. "We always like a little fresh meat to play with."

Back at The Garage, Ziggy had managed to hack into the Military's phone system.

"Right, we know that all 911 calls to the law enforcement division is recorded and logged." Ziggy explained to them. "I just found the file, and...Here we go!"

The message was largely garbled, and barely comprehensible. It was obvious that whoever made the call had tried hard to disguise his voice. They could make out the address of the apartment and something about a disturbance, and that was about it.

"Well that was helpful." Dillon said sarcastically. "Good luck trying to identify that voice."

"Well it gives us one more step." Ziggy told him. "I traced the signal to the phone."

"What are we waiting for?" Flynn asked them. "Come on, let's get that phone!"

"It's at a landfill not far from here." Ziggy told them as he transferred the data to his palm pilot. "Whoever made the call probably threw away the phone."

"So we can try to identify who made the call." Dillon surmised.

"It wouldn't hurt to look at that phone." Flynn said with a shrug. "Come on."

Mouse took Summer out of her cell into the exercise yard to show her where everything was before lights out.

"I'd warn you to stay sharp in here." Mouse told her. "A lot of people in here don't have a whole lot to lose, and most of them aren't very friendly."

"I kind of noticed that." Summer told her, stroking her bruised abdomen gently. "Not all of them are on this side of the bars either."

"The guards have their issues." Mouse told her. "It's best to just do as you're told and not give them any excuses."

Morris and her cronies entered the exercise yard as Summer and Mouse continued to talk. She gave a little look to the guard who had given her the tobacco, which was his signal to clear the yard of other guards. Summer looked up to the towers, noticing the guards leaving.

"Mouse, you know you said I should stay sharp?" Summer asked her. "Am I right in thinking it's a bad sign when the guards leave while prisoners are still in the yard?"

"We've got to get out of here!" Mouse told her in a panic. As she turned around, she saw Morris and half a dozen other prisoners blocking their way.

"Get out of here Mouse!" Morris warned her. "You don't want to get hurt!"

"Go! Summer instructed her as she prepared a guard. Morris and her friends surrounded her, preparing to strike.

"We just wanted to welcome you properly Ranger girl!" Morris taunted her, pulling a polythene bag out of her pocket. "This is going to hurt!"

"You have no idea." Summer replied as the first of them lunged for her. She dodged aside, kicking her legs up into the air with ease, sending her to the ground. The next grabbed her, only to find herself thrown to the ground. Mouse hid a short distance away as they continued to attack her. Because of her training, she held out well, but without her Ranger suit to enhance her abilities, the numbers quickly began to tell on her. She took a few hard shots, before a seemingly innocent punch to the stomach caused her to collapse. Mouse saw blood on her hands as she held her stomach. Looking more closely, she realised that one of the prisoners was armed with a shiv made from a shard of glass. They started to kick her viciously on the ground.

"Get her up!" Morris ordered, wiping her nose with her wrist. "You broke my nose!"

"It doesn't make you any prettier." Summer responded sarcastically as three of Morris' cronies held her tightly, preventing her from fighting back. She punched Summer in the face hard, before retrieving the polythene bag.

"I was just meant to hurt you." Morris told her. "I guess your stay here's going to be a lot shorter than you thought."

With that, she slipped the bag over Summer's head and held it tightly. She struggled as hard as she could, but their grip was too strong. She could feel everything beginning to grow dimmer as she became short of breath. All things considered, it wasn't a bad way to go; at least her pain would end soon. It just seemed bizarre to think that despite all those machines she had faced, she was going to be killed by a couple of punks in prison. She heard an impassioned yell and felt the prisoner holding her left arm falling away. She gasped for air as the bag was torn from her head allowing her to breathe. She looked up to see her unlikely saviour, Mouse, being beaten savagely. The guards came back into the yard, breaking up the fight at long last.

"You were only meant to rough her up a bit." One of the guards whispered to Morris.

"She looks pretty rough to me." Morris said sarcastically at two of the guards dragged Summer back to her feet.

"Sergeant, lock down all the prisoners!" He barked aggressively. Summer watched as they were guided from the yard. She felt her hands being handcuffed behind her back. "Not our celebrity though, the Warden will want to see her."

With that, she was dragged from the yard, through the corridors to a secure elevator. One of the guards activated a key card system to take the elevator to the top floor. It was only accessible by key card for a good reason. The guard room was up here, along with the armoury and the warden's office. She was shown into his office, where she was forced down into a chair by his desk. His office was a gauche exercise in excess. It was panelled in dark oak, with prints of classical paintings hanging on the walls. The desk was impractically large, and ornately carved. A high backed leather chair faced away from her towards a faux marble fireplace.

"Leave us." The Warden announced, waving the guards off over his shoulder. Summer's heart froze within her chest. It had been almost three years, but she still recognised the voice. She could remember every moment of it as if it was happening all over again. She could feel his strong hands clamped around her wrists, holding her down. Groping her like an animal. As he turned around, her face went completely white as the full horror of her situation dawned on her.

"Ronan?" She said weakly, fighting for breath as her heart beat faster.

"Hello Summer." He greeted her insincerely. "I bet you never thought you'd see me again."


	5. A Ray of Hope

"I know what you're going to say, I look different." Ronan began as he poured himself some sparkling water. "I lost about 70 pounds after the last time we met. Of course that kind of happens when you have your jaw wired shut for six months." He rounded the desk, sitting on it, bringing him uncomfortably close to her. Even being in the same room was uncomfortably close for her.

"Not that I'd recommend it as a diet plan, but I think I kind of look better now." He told her. "Maybe I'll thank the Colonel one day. He kind of did me a favour in the long run."

"How did you get this job?" She asked him. "What lunatic thought it was a good idea to leave you to watch over women?"

"Well I have you to thank for that." He responded in a small chuckle. "You see because you never made a complaint, there was no reason for the Department of Corrections to ignore my application. Given my spotless military record, I was an ideal candidate. To be honest, this is the best job I ever had. I should be thanking you for this change in career path."

Summer looked into her chest as a tear fell down her face. She knew that he was right. She had been weak back then. He had taken so much out of her back then that she couldn't face having it all dredged up again by going through a court case. Of course it was because of that she had ended up in this situation. There was no guarantee that he would have been convicted, but the accusation would have created doubt over his suitability for such a position. At least if she'd reported it there would have been an investigation into his conduct. As it stood right now though, she was surely in the worst possible position. She was an inmate in the prison he was now in charge of. He had control over her entire life.

Ronan came around behind her chair and stroked some hair from her face with his thumb, sending a shudder through her spine. She couldn't bear to be in the same room as him, much less have him touch her. She flinched away from him.

"Now, it doesn't have to be like that." He told her. "I can be quite a good friend to have in this situation."

"Don't touch me!" She warned him. "You're sick!"

"I might be sick, but I'm also in charge." He reminded her, placing his hands on her shoulders and rubbing them gently. "You know, you are in here for life. It all depends on you how easy that life is."

"I think I'd like to go back to my cell now." She responded, shrugging his hands off her shoulders. "I think I prefer it in there."

"Hey, I've got all the time in the world." He stated with a shrug. "So do you. Sergeant!"

One of the guard officers came into the room at that point. Ronan smiled at her insincerely.

"I think Ms. Landsdown needs to be taught a lesson in respect." He told the Sergeant. "Take her to the infirmary to get her wounds tended to, and then take her to the hole."

Summer looked at him, her eyes wide in a combination of disgust and fear. That didn't sound good. She knew that "the hole" was a solitary confinement unit used as a punishment for misbehaviour. Being separated from the general population would probably be a good thing, especially now that she had been involved in an altercation with some of the inmates, but that wasn't what worried her. Those units were small. VERY small. She had been shown one during training in case she was called on to work as a guard. There was barely room to sit in one, there was certainly no room to straighten out or stand up in. "Take her off work detail. Throw her in the hole for the night."

"You can't do that!" She shrieked, struggling against the guard dragging her away. "You can't..."

Her words were cut off as the guard hit her hard in the stomach with his night stick. She lay, curled up on the floor, wheezing loudly as she fought for breath. Ronan knelt on the floor beside her.

"This is my prison." He reminded her. "I can do whatever I want. Besides, I can't let prisoners get away with fighting on my watch. It makes me look like I'm not in control. I wouldn't want to look like I'm not good at my job now would I? Get her out of my office."

As they dragged her from the room, Ronan made his way back to his chair, and pressed a button on his intercom.

"Housekeeping, could you send someone to my office?" He asked them. "There's a blood stain on my floor."

He settled back into his chair with his feet up on his desk as he considered the fate that awaited the woman who had cost him his last job. In many ways, things could not be working out better for him. He had her right where he wanted her.

Meanwhile, Ziggy, Flynn and Dillon arrived at the recycling centre at the coordinates Ziggy had lifted from the phone records.

"Well at least it looks like the cleanup crew hasn't been through here recently." Flynn chirped a little cheerfully. "I'll start over here, Ziggy, you head over there. Dillon..."

Dillon didn't say anything, instead just dialling his cell phone. Ziggy came returned to his side carrying an old toaster.

"Dillon, the phone will be switched off." He reminded him.

"It's worth a shot." Dillon said with a shrug. "The GPS chip was still working."

"I told you, that would run on the battery's residual power; the phone doesn't need to be on to power that." Ziggy reminded him. "It's been a legal requirement in new cell phones since 2024."

"Well I'll give it a try." Dillon said sarcastically. "Unless you really want to spend the rest of the day digging through old cans and used diapers."

He dialled the last couple of numbers, at which a cell phone started ringing.

"It's coming from over here." Flynn stated, pulling on some latex gloves and rummaging through a nearby pile. He smiled and held it up, at which Dillon hung up. The phone stopped ringing immediately. "Fortunately for us it looks like our man was in a hurry to get rid of it."

"Now all we need to do is figure out how to find the guy who used it." Dillon replied.

"I think I know someone that can help us with that." Flynn said with a grin. "I happen to be dating someone from the forensics lab. It's only a few blocks from here."

"Well in the absence of a better plan, I say we go for it." Ziggy responded.

As Flynn turned, leading them down the path towards the lab, Ziggy leaned in towards Dillon with a cheeky smile.

"Flynn has a girlfriend?" He asked. "What do you think she's like?"

"We'll find out soon enough." Dillon replied. In truth he hadn't really given much thought to Flynn having a girlfriend. Right now, there was only one girl he was thinking about, and he was sure he was running out of time.

Summer was led from the infirmary back into the exercise yard after having her injuries tended to. She saw the tiny metal boxes at the other end that the guards were dragging her towards. As much as she wanted to fight, to try and stop them putting her into the cramped, claustrophobic boxes, she knew that it was pointless. It would only lead to the guards beating her again. As she arrived at the door to one of the boxes, one of the guards removed her handcuffs. She rubbed the feeling back into her wrists.

"Get in." He demanded. Summer slowly climbed into the box, becoming painfully aware of how little room there was in the punishment box. Despite not exactly being a huge person, she still couldn't straighten out her legs. As he closed the door, she felt like the world had collapsed. The only light entering the box came from the small crack around the edge of the door and the viewing hatch. "Are you comfortable yet?"

"I could do with a blanket." She responded sarcastically. The guard just laughed and slammed the viewing hatch shut, before pounding on the top of the box. Inside, the sound echoed and vibrated through her painfully. She clutched her ears to shut out the worst of it. As he stopped and left her, she began to panic. She felt like she could barely breathe in the cramped cell. She curled up into a ball on the floor, wrapping her arms around her head defensively and closed her eyes tightly, trying to think of something, ANYTHING to take her out of this place.

Her mind drifted back to the first time she met Dillon. She remembered seeing him climbing out of his car and recalled her helmet. She could see something in his eyes, a certain warmth that she just had to see up close. He was so much taller than her that she had no choice but to look up at him.

She had thanked him for saving her, a situation she hadn't been in since Colonel Truman had saved her from Ronan. At that moment, she felt a connection she couldn't deny. When the soldiers arrived and scanned him, finding his implants, she just had to do everything she could to return the favour. He had saved her, and she had to save him in return. He had already proven to her that he was one of the few men she could trust.

Over time, he had shown her more and more of himself that she liked. While he still had his doubts about himself due to how little he remembered about his life, she could see the goodness and the tenderness in his soul that she had come to admire, perhaps even love. Thinking about him gave her something it felt like she had lost long ago. It gave her hope.

Scott was sitting in his room back at The Garage, looking tearfully through some old photo albums. He hated to think what was happening to Summer. He knew as well as anyone that former soldiers and guards didn't tend to have easy lives in prison, and so he knew that for her, it had to be a thousand times worse.

He looked at a picture taken a little over two years previously, showing himself and Summer in each other's arms on the day they graduated from the military and air force academies respectively. He had known her most of his life, she had been the first girl he'd really been friends with. She had been at his apartment so many times before their Ranger days; she practically had her own room there. She was like a sister to him. That just made this whole situation worse.

He looked again to that picture. She was smiling so warmly and contentedly, and yet he had since found out what had happened to her. That picture could only have been taken a few months after she was attacked. He remembered Summer briefly staying in a hospital around that time, but both she and his father had always told him that it was an accident in training. It upset him to think that after everything they had been through together she wouldn't trust him with the truth about what had happened to her on that night. She was like a sister to him, and it hurt that he couldn't be there for her. It hurt even more to think that he didn't know. He turned as he heard a knock on the door a short way off.

"Things are pretty quiet downstairs." Colonel Truman announced as he arrived.

"The others are out." He replied.

"Probably violating my direct order to leave Summer's case alone I would imagine." He sighed, sitting on the bed with his son. He took the photo album from him and pointed to the picture of them on the day they graduated. "I'd have thought you'd have joined them."

"You told us not to." Scott replied stiffly. Colonel Truman looked at him a little disbelievingly.

"When's that ever stopped you?" He asked in response. "I can't be involved; I'm needed to keep things running at central control. I have to be seen to be handling this properly..."

"But you were counting on us to disobey you." Scott interrupted him.

"Summer means so much to you, I thought it would be instinct for you to help her." He commented. "So why aren't you?"

Scott snatched the photo album from his father, snapping it shut and throwing it aside. He rounded on his father with an annoyed look on his face.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He demanded angrily. He hadn't had a chance to speak to his dad since the court case. He hadn't talked to him since he had found out about Summer. "She's my best friend!"

"It was hard enough for her to get over the attack as it was." Colonel Truman replied. He took a deep breath as he relived the day in his mind. "She didn't stop crying for almost four hours. After that, she didn't talk for the first two days. She was completely heartbroken; Ronan had taken all of her confidence. It took all the strength I had in me to take care of her. She was completely humiliated by the whole thing, she felt like she had something to hide, so she made me promise I'd never tell anyone. She didn't want anyone to know what had happened."

"But I was like family to her..."

"She didn't want you to think any less of her. She didn't want you to feel like she couldn't stand up for herself." He told him sadly. He took off his glasses and looked into his eyes. "I told her she had nothing to worry about, but she thought you'd lose respect for her. She made me promise I wouldn't tell you. It's a promise I kept up until I was forced to during her trial."

"I can't believe she went through that alone." Scott said, wiping away a tear from his eyes. "I would have helped her."

"Well you couldn't back then, you didn't know." Colonel Truman stated. "Of course you can help her this time. If there is evidence, I'm sure you and the others will find it."

Scott nodded in understanding and got off the bed, making his way out the door.

"Where are you going?" Colonel Truman asked.

"I'm going to disobey a direct order." He replied as he left.

"That's my boy." Colonel Truman said under his breath as he put his glasses back on and left. He wished he could help Summer himself, but he knew that now the team was together on this, her fate was in good hands.

Flynn, Dillon and Ziggy arrived at the forensics lab. Flynn looked around briefly, before finding who he was looking for. A large smile crossed his face and he came over behind her. She was a little shorter than him, and long, dark hair. He arrived behind her and reached around her, covering her eyes.

"Guess who?" He asked her.

"Flynn!" She screeched, hopping with excitement and turning around, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him enthusiastically. Ziggy's jaw almost hit the floor as he saw her. She was a little pale, likely through working indoors so much, but she was very attractive. He didn't know what to expect, but since Flynn was the "grease monkey" of the group, he certainly hadn't expected anything like her.

"Guys, this is Sam. Sam, this is the guys I work with." He introduced her. She greeted each of them with a handshake and a kiss on the cheek.

"It's great to meet you all at last!" She said excitedly. "Flynn talks about you all the time. So to what do I owe the pleasure? You don't normally visit me at work."

"I'm afraid it's business Sam." Flynn told her. He handed over the cell phone. "I need you to tell me everything you can about this cell phone."

"I'll be back soon." She replied, making her way into the lab.

The door to Summer's punishment box was unlocked, and opened. She shielded her eyes with her hand as a torch was shone into her face, and she felt a sense of relief as the fresh, cool air rushed suddenly into the cell. Blinking a little to return her eyes to focus, she looked up to see Ronan kneeling by the door with a guard a short way behind him.

"Well, you've had a few hours in here." He reminded her. "Have you thought any more about your conduct?"

She couldn't say anything. She knew that speaking back to him would only be likely to cause him to torture her further.

"Now, are you ready to behave?" He asked her. "Will you play nicely with the other inmates?"

"Getting my ass kicked again isn't high on my 'to do' list." She responded weakly. He handed her a bottle of water, allowing her to take a drink. She quaffed it enthusiastically. She hadn't eaten or drank since before she had arrived at the prison, and thirst was quickly becoming an issue. He pulled the bottle away again, before shoving her back inside and slamming the door closed, locking it again. She began pounding on the door in her desperation to be released.

"Release her after breakfast service tomorrow back into general population." He instructed the guard. "We've almost broken her. She should be nice and receptive by then."

"Sir, by then she'll have missed dinner AND breakfast service." The guard reminded him. "She'll have been without food for 36 hours by then."

Ronan cast a little glance to the punishment box with a twisted grin.

"She'll live." He replied as he turned and left the yard. Mouse looked around; making sure no one was looking in the direction of the punishment boxes, and scurried out of her hiding place near the training equipment. While she couldn't unlock the door, she knew she could help Summer in one way. She slid open the viewing hatch.

"Summer, here." She beckoned her. She pulled out a small dinner roll that she had smuggled out of the mess hall from dinner, and shoved it through the hatch. "Sorry, it was all I could get."

Summer didn't care though; it may as well have been a thanksgiving roast with all the trimmings. Her stomach growled as she accepted the small gift.

"It's great, thanks Mouse." She replied, looking through the hatch. She could see the tiny woman's glasses had been hastily repaired with tape, and the right side of her face was badly swollen and bruised. "Listen, thanks for helping me out there. I was pretty much a goner."

"I couldn't just stand back and watch them kill you." Mouse replied nervously. "It's important to have friends in here. I know that better than anyone. I didn't have any until you came."

"Well you do now." Summer assured her. "I'm sorry you got hurt."

"Please, it wouldn't be the first time someone's beaten me up in here." She replied. "I'll try and smuggle something out of the breakfast service tomorrow. Check in your pillowcase when you get out of here."

"Thanks Mouse." Summer answered. "See you after work detail."

"What are you doing Mouse?" One of the guards asked her, coming over to her. "This prisoner's in solitary. You do understand the concept of solitary confinement don't you?"

"Sorry sir." She replied weakly, shrinking away from him nervously. "I didn't mean anything..."

"You know how much you enjoy solitary don't you Mouse?" He threatened her. "Would you like another stretch in the hole? I could arrange that."

"NO!" She shrieked in an obvious panic. "Please, anything but that!"

"Just get the hell out of here Mouse." He snapped. "If I see you near here again, you're going into one of them."

Mouse just ran from the yard as quickly as she could. The guard slammed shut the viewing hatch, once more shutting Summer into darkness. She immediately began wolfing down the dinner roll with gusto. It wasn't much, but it staved off the worst of her hunger, but more than that, it lifted her spirits by reminding her that she had something important to her survival in this place. She had a friend.

Back at the lab, Sam came back to them with the phone and a report she had compiled.

"OK, normally I wouldn't put in this much work pro bono, but since it's you I ran the works on this." She told them. "It's a pre-paid cell phone, so there's no contract to find the owner by. It was wiped off before it was disposed of, so there's no fingerprints on the casing, and with the exception of a call to 911, there's only one other number on it. A call received on it from four days ago. The number was withheld."

"So we've got nothing." Dillon groaned. "That was a waste of time!"

"I know you better than that Sam." Flynn chipped in. "What else do you know?"

"This model of phone is only sold in one store." She told them. "Only one was sold last week, it was a cash transaction."

"That still doesn't help us." Dillon responded. "How does it help us find out who made that call?"

"Fingerprints." She told him.

"I thought you said it was wiped down." Ziggy said, looking a little confused. Sam smiled at them.

"I said the CASING was wiped down." She corrected him. She clicked open the back and pulled out the battery, presenting it to them. "But we have a very clear thumb print on the battery."

"So we just need to find a match for the thumb print." Dillon said, allowing a smile to cross his lips.

"Actually there's no need for that. It matches a print on file." She informed him, pulling out a file with a photograph. "Stephen Walker."

"The barman?" Ziggy asked her. "He has a record?"

"He was arrested a year ago for buying contraband." She informed them.

"He was on duty the night of the murders." Dillon stated. "I think it's time we had a word with him."

"You're a legend as always Sam!" Flynn complimented her with a soft kiss. "I promise I'll make this worth your time."

"You better mister." She giggled. "Movies, on Friday as always?"

"You know it pet." He replied. "Right now, we need to go. I'll see you later."

As they were leaving, Ziggy came to Flynn's side with his mouth hanging open in amazement.

"How on earth did you end up with someone like her?" He asked him. "She's hot!"

"It's the accent boys." He responded. "Trust me, girls love the accent."


	6. Progress

Summer couldn't sleep in the punishment box. She could barely breathe in it. All she could do was sit and think about everything she had lost as a result of this nightmare. As what little light penetrated the cracks around the door, plunging her into complete darkness, she pulled into herself for warmth and comfort. She missed the comfort of her quarters back on the base. Under the circumstances, even the basic beds back in her cell would have been luxury.

She struggled with everything going on in her mind. This nightmare had swallowed her whole, stolen everything from her. She banged the back of her head against the steel wall of the tiny cell in a vain hope that somehow the impact would straighten out the unintelligible fog that clouded her mind, but to no avail. She still couldn't recall anything of the night she had gone to the apartment of the three murder victims, regardless of how hard she tried.

Since then, all she could think about was the horrifying events that had unfolded since she had been discovered in that apartment. She had been arrested and treated like a vicious, mad dog being prepared to be put down. She could remember the remorseless stream of tests as blood and tissue samples were taken from her in a humiliating ritual to prove what they had already decided. She could remember every hateful, judgemental look she'd received since news had broken that she was a three time murderer.

Most of all, she could recall the reactions of her friends. Scott had not been to see her, save from the public gallery in the courtroom since she had been arrested. Even there, he hadn't said anything to her. She could remember the way he had looked at her as Colonel Truman recounted what had happened to her when they were at the academy. She could feel something in herself that she had never thought she'd ever feel when he looked at her. She felt pity. She had sworn Colonel Truman to secrecy back then because she didn't want Scott to think of her as weak or helpless. They had been close friends for so long that his opinion of her was crucial to her.

He couldn't bring himself to say anything to her as she was taken away. That was what she had feared the most if he found out. He was ashamed of her. He didn't respect her anymore. Even if she wasn't locked away in here, she was sure she had lost him.

Flynn had always been a good friend to her. She had first met him during the evacuation, and they had hit it off straight away. He had kind of an easy-going nature that was completely unlike any of the people she had met before. She had been at the military academy for so long; she had virtually grown up there. Everyone was so stern and formal there. Even Colonel Truman, the man who had been like a second father to her rarely dropped the attitude.

Flynn though, was totally different. He was friendly, funny, and he always had a kind word to say about everyone. Being one of the few girls in the military academy, she had always been in a male-dominated environment. She had to constantly struggle and strive, working twice as hard to be given half as much respect as the guys, but with Flynn she never felt like she had to prove herself.

There were many times she could just let down her walls and just enjoy a conversation, or even to laugh with him. She remembered seeing the same pity in him that she saw in Scott when he learned about the attack, and it was heartbreaking to see it. Flynn was the man she could laugh with, he was never meant to feel sorrow for her. She remembered seeing him yelling and struggling against Scott, protested the decision, only to be restrained. She would miss Flynn, he always made her feel good about herself, but even thinking about him couldn't lift her spirits in here.

Ziggy made her laugh. Not in the same way Flynn did, but he was really funny. His little eccentricities had annoyed her at first. He followed Dillon and the others around like an annoying little brother. He was constantly talking about completely random and unimportant things, and he never took anything seriously.

Over time though, she had come to realise that he was just a little different. He was a lot smarter than people gave him credit for. He was a complete whizz with computers, impressing even Dr. K with his hacking abilities. More than anything, as a result of his somewhat less than spotless past, he was incredibly streetwise. There were many times that he knew a contact within the underworld that could give them information they needed.

Of course, they were never that close. That much had been confirmed in her mind by the way he couldn't even come to the courtroom.

Then there was Dillon. She had seen so much in him when he arrived; she was willing to stand against her long time friends, even Scott, who had almost been like a brother to her. She had always been quite stand-offish to others at first, largely because it was so hard for her to trust men after the attack, but something drew her to him. He had intrigued her.

She had taken the opportunity while he was in prison to go and talk to him. She felt secure and safe in that situation, she was in control. Even in that situation though, he stood up to her and challenged her. He didn't back down to her. That had only intrigued her more; she just had to know more about him. She had been the only one to give him a chance, and they had grown closer over the months since they had met. She was even beginning to let her guard down, entertaining the thought that perhaps there was a man she could trust completely, that perhaps they could be more than friends.

Of course those hopes had been cruelly dashed since then. She was so stupid and stubborn; she couldn't just let it go when he made fun of her in the bar. She had to try and prove that he was wrong. Even with him, she still struggled to maintain the upper hand, and it had cost her dearly. She was never going to leave this place while she was alive. More than that, he had turned his back on her. Just like Ziggy, he hadn't even turned up to court, what would possibly be the last time he would ever see her.

The door was ripped open, and light flooded in, almost blinding her. Summer shielded her eyes with her hand, squinting to try and focus. She hadn't even noticed that the first light of morning had started to creep through the cracks in the door. A guard reached in, grabbing the back of her steel collar roughly, pulling it painfully against her throat and dragged her out of the punishment box into the yard and dumped her on the ground.

"Get up!" He barked, kicking her leg hard. "I said, get up!"

Summer pulled herself shakily to her feet. After being shut up for so long, her legs felt weak and rubbery. Her back and neck were sore from being hunched over for so long.

"The other prisoners are on work detail. You're confined to your cell until dinner time." He told her, gesturing to the cell block. "Go!"

She made her way gingerly along the hall as he led her back to her cell. Between the injuries she had suffered at the hands of the other inmates and the strain of being held in the confined space for so long, it hurt just to stand, never mind walk. She arrived back at her cell, at which point the guard locked the door behind her.

She watched for a second to make sure he had left, before throwing herself onto the bed, and shoving her hand into her pillowcase. True to her word, Mouse had smuggled some food out of the breakfast room for her. It wasn't much, just a couple of pieces of dry toast, but all things considered it was better than going hungry for the next 12 hours or so until dinner service.

Quickly wolfing down the toast, she made her way to the mirror on the wall and checked her appearance. Her lack of any real sleep had left her with large, dark circles under her eyes, standing in stark contrast to her pale skin. She could barely stand straight, and her eyes were bloodshot. She looked like hell, and felt as though she had aged about forty years and she had only been in here one night. She slumped down onto the bed and curled up under the covers as exhaustion finally claimed her. For the first time since she had been incarcerated, she was able to sleep.

Dillon, Flynn and Ziggy turned up at the bar, finding the door locked.

"The deliveries always come in about this time." Ziggy told them. "Someone will be here."

"How do you know..." Flynn tailed off and held up a hand as he reconsidered. In the past, Ziggy had been involved in some low-level black marketeering and minor scams. It was probably best he didn't ask. "You know what, never mind."

"So someone will be in here." Dillon responded.

"OK, we need to get some answers from this guy." Ziggy stated. "Now, I think if we stay calm and exercise a little subtlety..."

At that point, Dillon kicked the door as hard as he could, sending it flying into the bar. He strode inside purposefully, crushing what was left of it underfoot as he entered.

"Or we could just do that." Flynn responded sarcastically as they followed him in. They made their way into the main bar where they found the barman from the night of the murders, Stephen, coming towards them carrying a baseball bat.

"What the hell man!" He screamed, gesturing wildly. "What the hell did you do to my door?"

"RPM." Dillon answered, showing him his ID. "We wanted to talk about a little 911 call you made the other night."

A look of panic crossed his face and he pulled the bat back over his shoulder defensively.

"Oh, so not smart." Dillon warned him, surging forward quickly. He grabbed his wrist, before wrenching the bat from his grip and shoved him to the floor. He stared up at him in horror as Dillon effortlessly snapped the bat in half.

He scrambled on the floor to get to his feet and started to run, only to be caught by Dillon. He launched him almost 12 feet, over the bar, smashing him through the display of bottles behind the bar.

"Dillon stop this!" Flynn yelled, grabbing his shoulder. "We're here to question him!"

"I'll get him to talk." Dillon replied, shrugging off his hand.

"It'll be a little hard for him to talk if you break his jaw." Ziggy chipped in. Dillon didn't seem to pay much attention though. As Stephen got back to his feet, Dillon reached across the bar, grabbing him and hauling him back over it, before throwing him onto the pool table. He hooked his arm into a painful arm lock.

"You made a 911 call from a cell phone on the night Summer was arrested." Dillon demanded, exerting some pressure. "Why!"

"I didn't make any phone call." He lied as he squirmed in pain. Dillon increased the pressure, feeling his arm hyper extending. The barman screamed in pain.

"You know, because of my implants, I have increased strength." He informed him. "Of course I don't know exactly how much strength I have. I bet I could probably tear your arm clean off."

"Dillon, think about this!" Flynn told him, getting in his face. "You have to stop..."

"We found the cell phone." Ziggy told the barman. "We found a fingerprint. We know it was you..."

"Alright, I admit it, I made the call!" He screamed. Dillon released him, allowing him to sit phone about. I was just told to make the call."

"Who told you?" Dillon asked him, wringing his hands impatiently.

"I'd answer him." Ziggy advised him. "He has that crazy....er...look in his eyes. I don't think he's in the mood to be lied to."

"I don't know." He replied.

"That's it, the arm's coming off." Dillon snapped, forcing him back onto the table. Flynn tried in vain to restrain him, but he couldn't.

"I don't know, I really don't I swear!" She screamed, writhing in his attempt to escape Dillon's grip. "I got the phone and the instructions in the mail! Some guy said he'd put 2000 creds into my account if I made a 911 call when he phoned me and then dumped the phone."

"You didn't think that was odd?" Ziggy asked him.

"I figured it was something to do with the black market." He responded. "I figured it was just a dealer trying to clear another firm out of his area, he never told me what they'd find in that apartment I swear!"

Dillon released him, allowing him to sit back up. Flynn pointed to a security monitor in the corner.

"I thought the cameras didn't work." He replied. "That's why there was no footage of Summer leaving the bar."

"The instructions told me to steal the tapes from that night." Stephen admitted. "I figured that whoever was setting this up was in the bar that night and didn't want any evidence."

"I'll bet he didn't." Flynn said sarcastically. "Do you still have the tapes?"

"I hope for your sake you do." Dillon warned him.

"They're in the safe out back." He informed them. "I'll get them for you."

They followed him into the back room, where he opened the safe and gave them the tapes. Ziggy put the tape into the machine and fast forwarded the tape through the night until the point Dillon left, at which they started watching. During the evening, Summer talked with them and annihilated them on the pool table for a while, but not long afterwards, she seemed to become disorientated and unsteady on her feet.

Eventually, she seemed to be barely capable of walking. One of the men reached an arm around her under her arms and held her up. The four left the bar after that, the three men left with her. Dillon noticed that her feet weren't moving. She was being dragged. Anger burned within him as he saw this. Their intentions had been obvious, and Stephen had done nothing to stop it. He had let them leave with her in that state.

Flynn grabbed him roughly by the jacket and rammed him against the wall.

"You slimy piece of shite!" He screamed at him, squeezing his throat with his forearm. "You knew damn she was in no condition to go home! Why didn't you stop them?"

"How many people do you think get dragged out of here after a few too many drinks?" He asked him.

"You had been watching them all night!" He continued to yell at him. "Anyone could see what they wanted from her. Why didn't you do anything to stop them?"

"It was none of my business what happened." He stated. "Who am I to judge if her idea of a good time was drinking herself into a stupor and..."

Flynn punched him, sending him to the floor. He had heard enough, this lowlife made him sick to his stomach; he wasn't fit to talk about Summer. There was no way he was going to let him bad mouth her behind her back.

"It's your business now." Dillon reminded him. "Those three are dead, and to the best of our knowledge, you're the last one to see them alive."

"And you did make a 911 call that sent the military to their apartment." Ziggy reminded him. "It seems a little bit of a coincidence. Things don't look good for you."

"You know what happened in that apartment. Our friend was sent to jail for life!" Flynn spat in his anger. "Why did you sit on this evidence?"

"Three people are dead!" Stephen reminded them. "I didn't want to risk being next. 2000 creds is not enough to risk my life for!"

"No, it's just enough to send a potentially innocent woman to prison for." Dillon said coldly. "If you know anything else..."

"Guys!" Ziggy called out, looking back to the screen. He paused the video and re-wound it. They watched as he played it back. Around the same time the victims left the bar, a man in a black hoodie got up from a table and seemed to follow them out. They re wound it another few times, watching more and more of the footage, and realised that the hooded stranger had been watching Summer for much of the night. "There was someone else in the bar watching her."

"We're taking these tapes." Dillon informed him.

"You broke my arm!" Stephen whimpered as he left. "You trashed the bar! I want that psycho charged!"

"You've withheld evidence in a murder trial." Flynn reminded him. "Trust me; you have nothing to bitch about. Expect a visit from our colleagues soon."

As they left the bar, Flynn cornered Dillon.

"Ziggy, take those tapes back to the garage." Flynn instructed him. The Green Ranger did so without question, leaving them alone. Flynn rounded on Dillon.

"What's on your mind?" He asked the Blue Ranger.

"You went way over the line." Flynn told him. "You could have killed him."

"But I didn't." Dillon answered. "I knew exactly what I was doing."

"Don't think you're the only one that cares about Summer." Flynn reminded him. "We're all here."

"I was the only one willing to cross the line from the start!" Dillon snapped. "While you were all bitching and whining about how much you care about her and how terrible it was this happened to her, I was the one out there doing something about it!"

"You're getting seriously close to ending up inside yourself." Flynn told him. "What happened to Summer just proves that the Ranger thing only gets us so much leeway. Is that what you want?"

"No, I want her to be released." Dillon answered. "I looked in her eyes, I saw how terrified she was, and I know she couldn't have done this."

"That's not all you saw in her eyes is it?" Flynn asked him.

"I don't follow." Dillon said weakly. "What are you trying to say Flynn?"

"I saw your face when you were beating on Stephen." Flynn told him. "I saw your eyes. There was a lot of anger in there. You're becoming too emotionally invested in this. If you want to help her, you need to back off a bit."

"What are you talking about?" Dillon asked him. "I was just..."

"I know Dillon, even if you don't want to admit it." He interrupted him. "I know that you love her."

Dillon let out a long, slow breath. Flynn had seen right through him. He was invested in this in the biggest way; he had to get her out. She meant so much to him. Flynn put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly.

"I know you want to help her, but turning the whole military against us isn't going to help." He reminded him. "Summer's tough, she'll survive in there. Just, calm down and believe that everything will work out. Otherwise you're going to lose control. Then you'll be no good to her."

"I'll try and back it down." Dillon told him. "Listen Flynn, can we..."

"I won't say anything, it's not my place." He replied. "Just, try to remember what I said."

"I will." He responded in a sigh. "Thanks Flynn."

At that point, Scott arrived at Paul White's apartment, finding another forensics team working over it. One of the guards approached him.

"Sorry, this is a crime scene." He told him. Scott noticed that he had a black eye and a split lip, probably Dillon's handiwork from when he was in the apartment earlier. He presented his ID to the guard.

"I wanted to view the crime scene." He told him. "I take it the forensics team's here to sweep it one more time before turning the property back over to the building superintendant."

"That's exactly right sir." He responded respectfully. "You can get a crime scene suit from the supervisor, he's just over there."

"Thanks." Scott said, making his way over to the supervisor and collecting a paper suit and some shoe covers. He got dressed quickly before heading into the apartment. He found the lead forensic expert checking a blood stain.

"I really don't know why we have to bother with this." He grumbled as Scott came into the room. "I know its procedure to have another sweep before turning the property back over to the building superintendant, but it's an open and shut case!"

"Well some people might think it's a good idea to be thorough." Scott said sarcastically. "Especially when someone's life hangs in the balance Dr....."

"McIntyre." He introduced himself, shaking Scott's hand weakly. "Well let's see, there were three bodies, the door was locked from the inside, there was only one other person in the room, and the knife had her fingerprints on it."

"Well that tells me that Summer touched the knife." Scott responded. "It tells me that the knife was used to kill those three men, and that no one left through the door."

"Therefore she killed them." Dr. McIntyre responded in a slightly exasperated tone. "There's an old saying, nine times out of ten, the most obvious solution is usually the right one."

"Well, it's still worth checking to make sure this isn't that other one time." Scott replied, picking up a torch and shining it around the room.

"Well your friends coming in here and messing up the evidence didn't help, but there were only four sets of footprints!" He said a little grumpily, becoming bad tempered at his findings being questioned. "They match the shoes of the three victims and Ms. Landsdown!"

"That only means four DIFFERENT kinds of shoes were in the room." Scott responded, stopping by the hatch to the recycling chute. "What if someone else was in the room, but was wearing the same size and make of shoes as one of the others?"

"It's possible, but they would have been found in the room!" He reminded Scott. "The door was locked from the inside!"

"Well maybe he found a back door." Scott suggested, gesturing to one of the others for an ultra violet torch. He opened the hatch and shone it in. Blood reflected back in a bright purple shade. "I take it you did check in here right?"


	7. Hopeless Summer

Summer lay on the bed in her cell, tossing and turning. She let out pained moans and whimpers as she writhed on the bed as though being assaulted by an unseen hand. Her exhaustion had taken her into a deep sleep, but her mind refused to lay idle. She was being tortured by her thoughts.

Inside her mind, she was back at the bar. She could remember beginning to feel light-headed. She had to steady herself on the pool table. The bar began to blur in and out of focus. She made her way towards the door, before her knees caved in completely and she fell against the wall. She felt someone positioning her arm over his shoulder and grabbing her around the waist, helping her up.

"Dillon?" She asked him, by now unable to look up to check.

"Sure thing gorgeous." The voice replied. "My name's whatever you want it to be."

This was the first time she had remembered this far into the evening. Normally everything blanked out when she was helped to her feet. The evening moved on a little.

She was helped into an apartment, and laid down on the bed. Someone, Dillon she presumed, carefully removed her jacket and threw it aside, before pulling off her shoes.

She looked around and smirked as she realised that this was not her quarters back at the Garage. She giggled slightly as she felt him sit on the bed next to her.

"You go us a hotel room?" She asked him.

"Actually this is my apartment." The voice replied.

"What are you talking about? You don't have an apartment." She muttered, beginning to sit up on the bed. She felt a hand on her shoulder, trying to push her back onto the bed. As she looked up, her vision cleared enough for her to realise it was not Dillon. It wasn't one of her friends at all. She squinted a little to get a better view, seeing that it was one of the guys from the bar.

"Just try to relax; we're going to have a good time." He told her.

"Don't touch me." She murmured, swiping his hand off. In her current state though, there was none of the usual power behind it. None of her usual speed or control, her limbs were barely responding to her commands at all.

"You weren't complaining when we brought you home." She heard another voice say. She looked around, and noticed that they were not alone. There were other people in the apartment.

"I'm leaving right now!" She stated, hauling herself off the bed. However, she very quickly found herself falling to the floor. Her legs wouldn't hold her weigh. Someone grabbed her and hauled her back onto the bed, at which she felt hands all over her. Hands were clamped around her forearms painfully and forced her backwards onto the bed.

"Just relax sweetheart, this'll all be over soon." One of the voices assured her. "If you just relax, you might just enjoy it."

Back in the cell, she muttered and let out a couple of small howls.

"NO!" She called out, still not coming out of her sleep. "Let go of me!"

Back in her mind, she remembered her anger rising as she realised that it was happening to her again. She could feel the hands groping her mercilessly. Warm breath, tinged with stale beer assailed her nose as one of them started kissing her face and neck. She struggled for all she was worth, one of her hands finally working its way free of the vice-like grip restraining her. She grabbed a handful of hair and hauled the first of her attackers off her.

The rest wasn't clear. Everything went by in a blur of attacks and screams. She had barely any control of her limbs, and so lashed out instinctively, landing attacks anywhere she could as her attackers tried in vain to restrain her. Eventually though, her assailants seemed to be fighting less. Despite everything, she was actually winning. Her mind blanked out again for a moment as she thrashed on her bed. She only saw one final image, her hand on the handle of a knife which had been rammed into one of her attackers.

She snapped upright on the bed, screaming, her eyes wide in horror and tears streaming down her face. She hadn't even noticed Mouse in the room.

"Summer, what's wrong?" She asked her cellmate, coming back to her side. She had come into the cell after her work assignment, finding her freaking out on the bed and tried to wake her up. She had jumped so far back as Summer terrified her with her scream that she had hit the back of her head on the opposite wall, but she didn't care. "You looked like you were having a nightmare..."

"I did it Mouse." Summer whispered, interrupting her in her hysteria. "I remember. My hand...the knife...I did it Mouse, I killed them!"

Mouse came to her side and held Summer to her chest warmly in her attempt to calm her down. Summer could only sit on the bed, weeping as she repeated a mantra.

"I killed them...I killed them..."

Dr. McIntyre turned an unhealthy shade of grey as Scott showed him the blood stains on the recycling chute. He had jumped to the obvious conclusion so quickly he hadn't done a thorough search, and so had missed a major piece of evidence in a murder trial. Scott gave him an annoyed look as he pulled out a cell phone and dialled the building superintendant.

"This is Scott Truman; I'm with the forensics team searching the apartment upstairs. I just wanted to know, when does the collection crew come for your recycling?" Scott asked him. "Thanks. Meet us in the basement recycling zone."

He flipped away his cell phone and got into Dr. McIntyre's face.

"You better hope for the sake of your career there's something left down there." He snapped as he left the room. "Stay here, as of right now you are NOT handling any of the evidence in this case!"

He arrived in the basement, finding the building superintendant there with a couple of soldiers. He came over to them, showing them his ID to confirm that he was the senior officer on the scene.

"Open it!" He demanded harshly, gesturing to the door to the recycling room. The building superintendant complied with the request, allowing them inside. Scott turned on the lights.

"Spread out!" He ordered the soldiers. "Wear gloves, bring me anything suspicious!"

"Kind of like this?" One of the soldiers answered, handing him a blood-stained plastic bag. Scott opened it, rummaging through the contents, finding a pair sneakers, black leather gloves, jeans and a black hoodie, all of them covered in blood. He put them back inside.

"Get this to the forensics lab!" He demanded, handing it to one of the soldiers. "Tell someone to test them. Oh, and if McIntyre goes within six feet of that evidence, you have my express orders to shoot him!"

He left the room, thinking about what he had found.

"This still doesn't make sense." He responded. "If the killer was wearing those clothes, and he escaped down the recycling chute, and then dumped the clothes, he still needs to escape the building."

"The only way in or out is through the reception hall." The building superintendant told him. "I think I'd have noticed a guy leaving the building bare-ass naked."

"Unless he found clothes elsewhere." Scott suggested, pointing out the laundry. "Has anyone reported having any clothes stolen?"

"All the time, but clothes go missing from the laundry all the time." He informed Scott. "We usually just log them in the lost property book. The military doesn't do anything about it anyway. They have more to worry about than a pair of missing jeans."

"Let me see the log book." Scott instructed him. "I need to know if any clothes went missing around then."

"One of the soldiers said you found something." Dr. McIntyre said in a panic as he arrived in the basement.

"Yes we did." Scott told him. "I'm still taking you off the case."

"You can't do that!" He shrieked in protest.

"Actually, I can." Scott informed him. "Your incompetence has already screwed up this case, and potentially ended up with an innocent woman going to prison. If I were you, I'd be looking for another career."

With that, he brushed past the forensics expert and left the building. Dillon was right in his suspicion all along. There was something suspicious about the way things had gone down. He couldn't prove it yet, but now he was sure that Summer had been set up.

Back at the prison, Mouse had managed to calm Summer down enough to get some kind of sense out of her, but she was still in shock. She couldn't stop shaking, and she was still staring into space. Mouse made sure none of the guards were watching, and pulled a small, plastic bottle out of her pillow case and handed it to Summer.

"This'll help your nerves." She told her. "It's not exactly brandy, but under the circumstances it's all I have."

Summer took a swig and started coughing loudly. It was incredibly warm in her throat, and it was very strong.

"What the hell is this?" Summer asked her.

"Orange juice and cleaning fluid fermented behind the heating units." She answered. "It's standard prison hooch. It tastes like crap but it takes the edge off when you've had a rough day."

"Thanks Mouse." She replied, handing it back gratefully after another swig. "I really appreciate it."

"You looked like you needed it." Mouse told her, stashing it back in her hiding place. "So you remembered what happened?"

"I remembered most of it." The former Yellow Ranger responded sadly. "I didn't know, but now I'm sure. It has to have been me."

"Summer, you didn't remember everything." Mouse reminded her. "There could be another explanation; you can't give up hope..."

"Like what?" Summer asked her. Mouse fell quiet and sat on her own bed wordlessly. As much as she wanted to reassure Summer that she was mistaken, but in truth she couldn't offer her another explanation. There didn't seem to be one.

"Look, you can't let this place get to you." Mouse told her softly. "It really changes people. You have to try and stay strong, to remember what makes you who you are. Otherwise, it'll drive you crazy."

Summer smiled a little as she sat on the bed. Mouse had helped her so much since she had arrived despite knowing little about her, only the crime she had committed, and yet in response, she knew almost nothing about Mouse. All she knew about her was that at some point before she came here she had been a librarian. She shifted a little on the bed.

"Mouse, I just have to ask." She began, considering the enigma of her cellmate. "You don't seem like the others in here..."

"How did I end up here?" Mouse completed her question. "Trust me, I've spent the last year and a half asking that myself."

"What did they send you here for?" Summer asked her. Mouse looked at her a little uncomfortably. "If you don't want to tell me..."

"No, it's alright." Mouse assured her. "I'm just not used to anyone taking an interest. I was sent here for fraud."

"Fraud?" Summer asked her. Mouse nodded.

"I was an assistant librarian in a high school on the other side of the dome." She informed the Yellow Ranger. "I loved the job. I got to see people in a controlled environment. I'm sure you've noticed I'm not exactly a people person."

She breathed a sigh and continued. "I graduated from the High School about a year before I started working there. I loved reading, and I had a real mind for administration, but I just couldn't face being shut up in an office all day. That's when the Chief Librarian, Dr. Wardle, suggested I take a job working with him."

"So what happened?" Summer asked her.

"He taught me a lot about computers and other things. He encouraged me to do a lot of online courses in my spare time." She replied fondly, remembering a happier time in her life. "Then one day the soldiers came for me. Funds had been embezzled from the education authority, and the traces led back to my online accounts. I was arrested and tried for the crime. The money disappeared before the trial was over, so they were convinced I had filtered it through dummy accounts and stashed it somewhere. I couldn't tell them where it was, and they thought I was lying, so they sentenced me to ten years."

"You didn't do it, did you?" Summer asked her. Mouse shook her head.

"I don't know who did, but it wasn't me." She replied. "If I had, I'd just have told them where the damn money was. If I had done that, I'd probably have been out by now!"

"How much are we talking about?" Summer asked her. "10 years seems a little steep."

"100,000 credits." Mouse responded. "I know a lot of people would take 10 years for a hundred grand, but I'm not one of them. There are times I don't know if I'll survive to get out of this place."

"So how do you survive?" Summer asked her, finding her mind drifting back to he own predicament. Mouse smiled at her, playing nervously with her tracking collar.

"Any way you can." She replied. At that point, a guard came into the cell, holding up a nightstick.

"Dinner service is in the mess hall." He reminded them. "Time to go ladies."

Scott arrived at the forensics lab, finding Sam examining the clothes from the recycling room. He had met her a few times when she came to the Garage to meet Flynn for their dates. She smiled as he came up to her.

"I'm glad to see you got this case." Scott told her. "Maybe now something will be done right."

"There were mistakes at the crime scene?" She asked him a little curiously.

"McIntyre managed to miss these clothes." Scott informed her. "He was pretty quick to stick to his initial findings."

"Well it doesn't surprise me that Dr. McIntyre screwed up." Sam told him, rolling her eyes. "He's as half-assed as they come."

"I thought he was your superior." Scott chuckled, seeing her friendly smile. He sat on her desk as she handed him a report.

"Only in salary and office size." She replied sarcastically. "Anyway, here are my findings. The clothes have blood samples from four different people on them."

"Let me guess, the three victims and Summer." Scott concluded. Sam nodded.

"You've got that right." She complimented him. "I'm sure you're not surprised to hear that they also match the blood stains inside the recycling chute."

"Sam, the next question I have to ask..."

"Is it possible only the bag of clothes was dropped down the chute?" She interrupted him. "Not a chance! The blood stains that drew your attention are all INSIDE the bag."

"So no blood would have ended up on the chute." Scott concluded.

"Well, not as much." Sam informed him. "My guess is that someone was wearing the clothes when they went down the chute."

"What clothes would they be pet?" Flynn asked his girlfriend as he arrived with Dillon and Ziggy.

"There was a fifth person in the apartment." Scott informed them. "He escaped down the recycling chute, that's why the door was still locked from the inside."

"Scott found his blood-stained clothes in the recycling room at the apartment block." Sam told her boyfriend, coming over to him and kissing his cheek.

"By any chance would these clothes include a black hoodie and a pair of pale blue jeans?" Flynn asked them.

"How did you know that?" Sam asked him. Flynn held up a copy of the tape they had made in the Garage.

"He was in the bar." Flynn explained. "I think it's time we compared notes."

Back at the prison, Summer sat self-consciously in the mess hall, eating her first meal. It was a fairly unappetising looking gloop of what she presumed was meant to be stew, though she wasn't certain. Other prisoners kept looking over in her direction and whispering. She hated this, she felt like a side-show. Some of them no doubt were looking for opportunities to settle a grudge, or to enhance their own reputation by taking out a Ranger. Others looked at her like she was insane, given her freak out in the cell earlier. The guard by the food trays cleared them onto the trolley and left to fetch the desert serving.

"Summer, Morris is coming over." Mouse warned her. Summer turned to face her. Morris' face was still badly bruised from the fight in the yard the night beforehand, and her nose was strapped up. She picked up Summer's food tray and dropped it on the floor.

"Thanks." Summer said sarcastically. "I was finished with that. It tasted like crap anyway."

"I heard you had a bad dream earlier." Morris taunted her. "The big, tough Ranger girl freaks out and screams at a little nightmare. Who'd have thought it?

The other inmates laughed at her, taking amusement in Summer's earlier suffering.

"Oh Dillon, Dillon!" Morris called out, imitating Summer's voice. "Who's Dillon? Your boyfriend?"

"That's none of your business!" Summer spat in her anger, beginning to get up to face her. At that point, three convicts grabbed her from behind and dragged her across the table, pinning her down. Morris leant over her, grabbing her hair.

"I had a husband before I came here." She stated. "Do you know how long it took him to send divorce papers? Four days!"

"Leave her alone!" Mouse yelled as she grabbed Morris, only to be shoved to the floor roughly.

"I'm in here for 12 years. You're in for life." Morris reminded her. "I'll bet your little Dillon's already found himself another little blonde piece to snuggle up to at night."

She pulled in closer to Summer, grabbing her face and forcing her to look into her eyes. She got a sick smile as she saw her tears.

"Your friends have probably forgotten you already. They might come to one or two visiting days, but how long do you really think they'll keep coming?" She asked her. "You're nothing Ranger Girl, It's time for you to face reality and live with it."

With that, the guard came back in, but quickly abandoned the desert trolley and came over with his night stick drawn. He tapped Morris on the shoulder.

"Break it up Morris." He warned her. Morris gestured to the others to release Summer and let her get up. "This little stunt just cost you desert."

"I don't like jello anyway." She snorted as she left the room under escort to return to her cell. Summer sat back at the table with her head in her hands as she thought about everything Morris had said to her. Mouse came over with two trays of Jello and put one down in front of Summer.

"Don't listen to her." Mouse advised her. "You need to hold onto anything you can in here. If this Dillon..."

"Why do I have to hold on Mouse?" Summer asked her in a cold, low voice. "What do I have to hold on for?"

"You need to keep hope..."

"That's just it Mouse, I don't have any damn hope!" Summer snapped at her cellmate. "My friends will forget me, Dillon will move on, if he hasn't done so already..."

"Summer, hope is all we have in here." Mouse told her. "It's what keeps me going..."

"Well that's the difference between you and me Mouse, you HAVE hope!" Summer yelled, dashing her tray off the table, spilling her desert on the floor. "8 and a half years from now, you're getting out of here. They'll take that collar off and you can go back to your life."

She gestured to her own tracking collar as her tars ran a little more freely.

"This is never coming off. The only way I'm getting out of here is in a box!" She screamed at her. "Maybe you should have just let Morris finish me off. She's right, I'm nothing."

With that, she got up and made her way back to her cell, mopping tears from her face as she went. She felt the pain in her heart so fiercely; she almost hoped it would be fatal just so it would end. Of course she knew that fate would not be so kind. Arriving in her cell, she quickly wrote a letter and sealed it in an envelope, before scribbling down the address of The Garage. As one of the guards passed on his rounds, she held it out between the bars.

"Could you put this in the mail?" She asked him. He nodded and took it from her, before making his way to Ronan's office. All the guards had been given strict orders to keep a close eye on her. Arriving in the office, he handed the letter to Ronan.

"She wants me to send that." He informed the Warden. "I thought you'd want to know."

"Well I suppose it's my duty to ensure she isn't saying anything she shouldn't." He replied, opening the envelope. He read the letter inside.

'Guys, this is the last letter I will ever send you.

I understand that I have let you all down and I know I can never make that up to you. I only hope that what I'm about to tell you will at least earn me some measure of forgiveness. I've remembered what happened that night. I am now under no doubt that I did kill them.

Please forward this as a confession to my crimes to the Justice Department. I know the families of the victims, much like you will never be able to forgive me for what I've done. I only hope that it can give them some measure of peace.

I wanted you all to know that I have accepted what I have done, and I acknowledge that this is where I deserve to be. It is for this reason that I know there is no point in me causing you or myself any further upset by reminding ourselves of my life before. I will instruct the Warden tomorrow that I am not going to accept any visitors, or mail from this point on. This is my life now; it's time I just accepted that.

I'm deeply sorry for any upset this causes, but I know you'll all move on and get over this eventually. Please just know that I love you all dearly and I hope that at some point you find happiness.

Goodbye,

Summer.'

Ronan got a sick smile on his face as he finished reading the letter. He addressed another envelope and sealed the letter inside, before handing it back to the guard.

"There's nothing in here that's sensitive." He told him. "Mail it with the rest of the outgoing mail."

"Yes sir." The guard replied as he left. Ronan reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of scotch, pouring himself a glass and leaning back into his chair with a satisfied grin. He had accomplished what he had set out to do from the moment she had entered his prison. He had broken her.


	8. Search for the Hooded Stranger

The following morning, the guys assembled in The Garage early in the morning. It had been a trying couple of days, but they were sure that things had to be much worse for Summer. Now more than ever they were certain that someone had set her up for a fall. Now they just had to find a way to prove it to the rest of the colony to secure her release.

Dillon sat on the stairs, playing with a monkey wrench as a way to ease his mind. He had no idea what to do; all he could think about was Summer, sitting helplessly in a cell. He hadn't seen her now since the night of the murders when he had gone home. His heart burned every time he thought about it. He had teased and taunted her about being a control freak. If he hadn't done that, he was sure she would never have gone with those guys to the pool table.

More than that, he felt his chest growing heavy any time he thought about the fact he had just walked away and left her in the bar on her own. She had told him to go if he wanted, but he shouldn't have listened. It was because of him that she had been left vulnerable to them. If he had just stayed, maybe he would have seen something or noticed something. He might have stopped her being drugged. He certainly would have stopped them taking her home with them. He couldn't help feeling guilty any time he thought about what had happened to her, and he had been thinking about that ever since it had happened. He couldn't bear to think she had ended up in harm's way because of him.

Scott paced back and forth in front of a white board, holding a marker pen, considering what they knew as Flynn and Ziggy settled onto the stairs with Dillon. Flynn looked sympathetically at the Black Ranger and tapped him on the shoulder in a wordless gesture of support. He had realised how much he cared for Summer, and he knew how badly he had taken everything that happened. Scott called all of them to order.

"OK, we need to figure out a good timeline of events." He told them. "From the beginning, what do we know?"

"Stephen Walker said that he received a cell phone and written instructions in the mail." Flynn told him. "He was meant to take the tapes out of the security system and call 911 when he received a call. He was told to say he heard a disturbance and send troops to Paul White's apartment."

"He said that he was told he'd be wired 2000 credits if he did it." Ziggy chipped in. "Central Command accessed his account. 2000 credits were wired to his account the following morning."

"So it looks like he told the truth about being hired to make the call." Scott concluded. "Could he have called his employer to warn him?"

"He says he never met the guy face to face. The only contact he had was the letter and the phone call on the night. The number was withheld, so we can't retrace the number." Flynn answered him. "We called the troops after we questioned him. They found a still in his back room; they've got enough to hold him without touching this charge."

"In this situation, he'd have given up the name if he had it." Ziggy responded. "He's going down regardless, at least if he gave up his boss, he would only go down for production of contraband."

"So that's all he knows." Dillon concluded. "So now we move on to the night in the bar."

"The man in the black hoodie came in shortly after we did and sat across from us, watching us." Flynn stated. "He never took down his hood, so we didn't get a look at his face, but careful inspection of the tape did show that he signalled to the victims. They were aware of his presence, and they seemed to know him."

"They were working together." Scott concluded. "He signalled them to move in when most of us had left."

"We were already arguing." Dillon recalled sadly. Ziggy nudged him and looked into his eyes.

"You can't blame yourself." He told him. "You didn't do this to her."

Dillon nodded in a wordless thank you for his friend's support. Scott rolled the tape a little, stopping it not long after Dillon left. He pointed out the stranger making his move.

"He put something into a bottle of beer and then placed it on the edge of the pool table when she was lining up a shot. One of the victims then gave it to Summer." Scott stated, rolling it forward a few frames. "That's when she was drugged."

"Fast forward to the end of the tape, and Summer all but passed out." Ziggy said as Scott wound the tape on to the final reel. "Then the four of them left, with our mystery man taking up the rear."

The mail man arrived, handing a letter to Dillon. He opened it absent-mindedly as they continued with their briefing.

"After that, they went back to the apartment. There was a fight, during which three of the men were stabbed to death." Scott continued. "Summer's fingerprints were found on the knife, but we now know that traces of leather were found on it too, leather which matches the gloves from the recycling room."

"So our mystery man also handled the knife." Flynn stated. "So he turned on and murdered his own accomplices."

"Right now we can't prove that." Scott replied with a regretful shake of the head. "So far that looks like what happened, but we can't prove it. We can only prove he was there and that he held the knife."

"Either way, Summer passed out and he left through the recycling chute." Ziggy chipped in. "There he changed out of his blood-stained clothes, made the call to Stephen and left."

"Not long after that the cops burst in and find Summer there by herself with the victims and her fingerprints on the knife." Dillon concluded. "There's just one thing, why did he tox screen not show anything?"

"Sam told me there're a lot of drugs that would cause the symptoms Summer described." Flynn told him reassuringly. "Some of them are metabolised in only a few hours. Summer's system was probably clean by the time they tested her."

"So now all we can do is find the guy in the black hoodie." Scott concluded. "Then we can piece together what actually happened in that apartment."

"We need to do it soon." Dillon told them, turning a little pale as he finished the letter. He handed it to Scott to read. Flynn and Ziggy both rushed to his side and read the letter in horror.

"She thinks she did it." Flynn said sadly, having to sit back down as the latest blow to their quest knocked the breath out of him.

"She sounds so miserable." Scott stated, realising as soon as he said it how futile a statement it really was. They knew she would be miserable in prison; it wasn't exactly a holiday resort. This letter though was different. He felt more than just sadness from her words, he felt resignation. She was giving up. He had never known her to be so depressed. He could feel her depression as though the paper was radiating it, infecting the team. He couldn't look at it any longer and shoved it away out of sight.

"We don't have long." Flynn sighed sadly. "That place is killing her."

"We need to get her out of there." Dillon stated. "Now!"

"Turning her into a fugitive isn't going to help!" Flynn told him, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him back down onto the step as he tried to stand. "We need to do this right."

"And we need to do it quickly." Scott interjected. "Dillon's right. We're running out of time."

Back at the prison, Summer and Mouse never exchanged a word as they ate breakfast. They hadn't spoken since Summer had blown up the night before over Morris' taunting. Mouse eyed up her friend in concern. She had seen so many prisoners come and go in the time she had been here that she had an instinct for when someone was close to breaking point. She knew that Summer thought very fondly of her friends, being separated from them had affected her mind badly.

"You can talk about it you know." Mouse told her, causing Summer to look up at her. "Your friends I mean."

"I don't want to talk about them Mouse." Summer replied sharply. "What's the point? I'm never going to see them again."

"You never know what the future holds." Mouse assured her. "I mean, I would never have thought I'd lose my virginity in the High School library."

Summer gulped the mouthful of porridge she was eating and looked at her in amazement.

"You lost your virginity in High School?" She asked disbelievingly.

"No, I lost it in the High School Library." Mouse corrected her. "I was working there at the time. It was a few months before I came here."

She leaned across and held Summer's hand softly, drawing her attention back to her.

"We need good memories to keep us going in here." Mouse told her. "Any time I feel low, I think about him."

"Who was he?" Summer asked her.

"Dr. Wardle." Mouse answered. "I said he taught me a lot."

"You hooked up with your boss?" Summer asked her.

"He was always really unhappy. He seemed to be having a lot of trouble at home. He'd always work late to try and put off going home. One night I asked him if anything was wrong, and he let me know he was having problems with his wife." Mouse explained, smiling at the memory. "I would listen to him whenever he needed to talk to someone, and I was there for him. He said that his marriage was pretty much over, but he only stayed because his wife threatened to kill herself if he left. Before long we were having an affair."

Summer looked at her new friend slightly unconvinced, but Mouse just returned with a sigh and a little glare.

"I know, I've seen TV too, and I've read more books than the entire student population. I know a lot of guys say that to have their cake and eat it, but he genuinely seemed unhappy. I could see it in his eyes. I believed him." She answered in an exasperated tone, playing nervously with her fork. "We were pretty close. I loved him so much. One night after the students went home and he closed the library. He brought out a bottle of wine and we had a few drinks and we talked. Before I knew it, he told me he loved me. We made love that night."

Summer smirked a little, trying to get the mental image of Mouse being tipsy and sleeping with her boss in a library. She just didn't seem like the type to do something like that. Mouse was glad to see Summer smiling again.

"So, tell me about Dillon." Mouse said with a little smirk. Summer couldn't help smiling briefly, but her expression slipped straight afterwards.

"I said I don't want to talk about my friends." She grumbled. "I'm trying to start a new life, there's no point..."

"Oh come on, humour me will you?" Mouse teased her, hitting her shoulder playfully. "Dr. Wardle stopped visiting me a few weeks after I came here. I know he isn't waiting for me. That doesn't mean I can't have happy memories about the time we did have together."

A guard came over, interrupting their conversation.

"The two of you are on trash can duty in the North Eastern sector." He informed them abruptly. "Be in the yard in ten minutes."

He left them, at which Mouse turned back to Summer expectantly. Summer just shook her head.

"We need to be going." She stated, picking up her food tray. "The trash won't haul itself."

"Well don't think I'm going to give up on this." Mouse replied, getting up herself. "Trash duty goes so much quicker when you have something to talk about."

Summer just shook her head and left with Mouse dejectedly. She really was trying to just not think about the others and get on with things here; especially now that she was sure she had killed the three men in the apartment and deserved to be in prison. Of course, Mouse had also accomplished something she had been intending to all along. As much as she tried to put them out of her mind, she was thinking about her friends.

Back at the Garage, the others were still brainstorming how exactly they could go about identifying the stranger from the apartment. Scott wiped clean the white board.

"So what do we know about this guy?" Scott asked the others. "The first thing we know is his height. He seemed to be about the same height as Paul White in the video. Flynn, what height did the report place him at?"

"5' 9"." Flynn answered, leafing through the reports.

"OK, to give us some leeway, we'll place him between 5'8" and 5'10"." Scott replied. "The hoodie was baggy on him, but we know he has to have been skinny. He wouldn't fit down the recycling chute otherwise."

"So how does that help us establish his weight?" Ziggy asked him.

"Ziggy, what height are you?" Scott asked him. Ziggy shrugged.

"I'm about 5'8"." He replied. "Why?"

"How much do you weigh?" Scott asked him.

"110 lbs." He replied. Scott looked at him, clearly unconvinced. "105?"

"Ziggy..."

"OK, I'm about 95 lbs." He conceded. "Maybe 100 after a large dinner, why do you want to know?"

Scott grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and the seat of his pant and shoved him head-first down their own recycling chute. Flynn and Dillon came to his side and looked at the hatch.

"It's not like I haven't thought of doing that myself at times." Flynn told him casually. "But you know we could have just used the size of his clothes to determine his weight."

"We could." Scott conceded. "Of course I thought this would act as a more direct demonstration."

"He fit down the hatch, but he was a tight enough fit that he scraped the sides." Dillon commented. "I'd say he's the perfect analogue."

"OK, so we can say that our man's between 95 and 100 lbs." Scott stated as Ziggy came back into the room from the basement, pulling an old take-away carton from his hair. "So we have a decent physical description of him."

"If you don't count not having a hair colour, eye colour or any idea of what his face looks like." Ziggy said a little grumpily. "Oh, and if you really wanted me to see if I'd fit in the recycling chute, you could just have asked."

"He has a point." Flynn replied. "We only have a very basic physical on him."

"So the next thing we have to go on is his connection to the victims." Scott stated in an exhausted sigh. His exasperation with the case was obvious. They knew a lot about the events surrounding what had happened up until the slaughter in the apartment. Now they just needed to know what actually happened in there, and the only way they could do that was to find this faceless wraith that had caused all of this. "They obviously worked for him."

"We should look for a connection to Stephen Walker too." Ziggy suggested. "I think he probably knew him too. Why else would he choose him to make the call?"

"We go to that bar all the time Ziggy." Scott reminded him. "He could have chosen any of the barmen..."

"But he chose the only one with a criminal record." Ziggy interrupted him. "It's thin, but I think the reason he chose Stephen is because he knew something about him, something that meant he knew he would do as he was told."

"If there was a connection to him, then there might be a connection between him and the victims." Flynn suggested. "It's not much, but it's a start."

"Come on; let's find out who these guys are." Scott announced.

"I just need to borrow Ziggy for a minute." Dillon told them. "I have something I want to follow up on."

"Care to enlighten us?" Scott asked him.

"If it comes to anything, I'll let you know." He responded. Flynn could guess what he wanted and nodded in understanding.

"Ziggy, meet us in the records office when you're done." He instructed him, before turning back to Scott and gathering his jacket. "You take the computers; I'll take the hard copies."

As they left, Ziggy turned to Dillon.

"So what can I do for you?" He asked.

"Ziggy, I need you to hack into the prison system." He replied. "I need you to do me a favour."

Meanwhile, in another part of town, Summer and Mouse were busy at work, loading the contents of overflowing recycling bins into the back of a truck. As she bent down to pick up tome trash that had fallen out of the latest trash can, she felt a painful twinge in her back. Her injuries and strains from her brutal treatment had not yet fully healed, and the physical nature of the job wasn't helping any. She looked over to where Mouse manhandled another thrash can into the truck.

"Dillon's a friend." She said, remembering their earlier conversation. "I met him a few months ago."

"A friend?" Mouse asked her, getting a little smirk on her face. "A friend you talk about in your sleep?"

Summer wanted to reply, but she couldn't. Mouse had seen through her on this account. She did think of Dillon as a lot more than a friend. After what Ronan had done to her, she just couldn't bring herself to let any man get that close to her. She never thought she would meet anyone she could think about in that way, but something about Dillon had spoken to her on a level she thought she'd never be able to feel.

"I'd have liked him to be more." She admitted as she threw a handful of trash into the back of the truck.

"So what's he like?" Mouse asked her.

"He's...not like anyone I've ever met before." She replied. "He's smart, he's quiet. He's just as stubborn as I am..."

"Sounds like you're made for each other." Mouse chuckled. "Why did you never tell him how you felt?"

She slumped against the side of the truck, covering her eyes with her hands and groaned. It was a question that had a very simple answer, that it all seemed so stupid now. A large part of the reason she was in here was because she had insisted on playing this stupid game with him to try and maintain control instead of just admitting to him that she was crazy about him. That she had thought about him almost all the time since the moment they had met. She was just too scared to say something to him and leave herself vulnerable.

"I was too scared to say anything." She muttered. "I was so nervous that I couldn't bring myself to admit it."

Just then, they noticed a little commotion further up the street where their accompanying officers were discussing something with someone.

"There's no contact with prisoners." One of the guards said loudly. "If you want to arrange visiting time..."

"Look, this it official business, I need to speak to one of those prisoners." A familiar voice stated. Summer retreated behind the truck and sat on the ground, pulling her knees into her chest. Mouse came round the truck and smiled at her.

"I take it that's Dillon." She surmised. She looked over to where he was still arguing with the guards. "You never mentioned he was cute."

"What's he doing here?" Summer whispered weakly.

"Well I doubt he's interested in recycling patrols." Mouse said reassuringly.

"Look, if you want to interview a prisoner, you need a warrant." One of the guards told him. "If you want to contact the warden..."

"Look, I'm going to speak to that prisoner." Dillon told him sharply. "Now, do you really want to try and stop me?"

The two guards considered it for a second, before stepping aside. It wasn't as if he could take her anywhere, not when she was wearing her tracking collar. He came over to the truck, finding Summer looking up at him.

"I'll keep working." Mouse said, leaving the area quickly. Dillon offered Summer a hand to get to her feet. She accepted, pulling her back upright.

"Dillon, what are you doing here? She asked him. "How did you find me?"

"Ziggy hacked into the prison's tracking system and accessed the signal from your collar." He informed her, noting her injuries. He brushed her cheek with his finger. Her right eye was black, and her cheek was still bruised and swollen. She had numerous other injuries, but this was the most noticeable. He hated to see her like this. Her shoulders were slumped, and she wasn't able to stand up straight, or look him in the eye. A lot of her spirit and fire were gone already. "What happened to you?"

"It looks a lot worse than it feels." She assured him. "Some of the inmates wanted to welcome the new celebrity."

"I read your letter." He interrupted her before she could continue. "Summer, what's going on here?"

"I remembered that night." Summer told him. "Dillon, I did it."

"Did you remember everything?" He asked her.

"What does it matter?" Summer asked him as her tears began. "I remember enough. I remember fighting with them. I remember my hand on the knife in his chest!"

"Summer, we've been looking into the case, that's why Ziggy and I weren't at court." He told her. "A lot of stuff has been missed. You only remember part of what happened."

"How do you know?" Summer sobbed, sitting on the rear of the garbage truck. "Dillon..."

"I just know!" He implored her, reaching out and cradling her chin with his hand, lifting her face up to look into her eyes. He wanted to tell her what they had found out. He wanted to lift her out of her mood and give her hope, to raise her spirits, but he knew he couldn't. Not only would it be devastating to her if things didn't work out, but he knew that if she remembered any more about that night, then her testimony would be rendered inadmissible if she had been told about the other man in the apartment. Everyone would just say that she had made it up because the others had told her about it. "Please, you can't give up..."

"Why not?" She whimpered, unable to look at the man she loved. "Why shouldn't I just give up?"

"You can't give up," he told her softly, turning her face back to him, "because I never will."

He saw the look in her eyes and knew he had said enough. It wasn't like he had told her that she would get out, but he had given her some strength to carry on. He felt his chest tighten and had to try hard to stop himself from crying. He hated to send her back, knowing that she was being mistreated. He wanted nothing more than to tear the collar off her neck and take her away from all of this, but as heartbreaking as it was, he knew he had to leave her.

"I'll be in touch when I know more." He told her. "Until then, stay safe."

"Dillon!" She called after him. She got a thought as he turned to leave. She still couldn't imagine how she was going to maintain the strength to carry on. She had to find something to occupy her mind, and she had an idea. "Could you have something sent to me?"

"What?" He asked her. Summer looked over to where Mouse was working away across the street. Mouse had told her that she didn't know how the money that had been embezzled from the Education Authority had gone through her account.

"I wanted a case file to look at." She told him. "It's a fraud case, 100,000 credits stolen from the Education Authority about a year and a half ago."

"I'll see what I can do." He replied, a little curious as to what she could want with an old case file. "Stay strong Summer."

As he left, Mouse came back over to her friend's side and smiled.

"Now there's a man worth putting your faith in." She told her. "Come on, we've wasted enough time here."

Summer watched him leave, and couldn't help smiling. If there was an answer, if there was something missing that she didn't know about, she knew that Dillon wouldn't rest until he found it. As hopeless as everything seemed, she couldn't help feeling good to know that her friends were doing everything they could to help her. They weren't giving up on her as she had first believed. They still had faith that she hadn't committed murder. She just wished she was as sure.


	9. The Hood Slips

Mouse smiled at Summer as they got back to the prison. As much as she would never admit it, Summer's mood had noticeably brightened since she had seen Dillon during their work assignment.

"You know, you're going to start catching flies." Mouse teased her. "That's probably the first time I've seen you smiling since you got here."

"I haven't had a whole lot to smile about recently." She replied, fingering the tracking collar around her neck absent-mindedly. "He said that the Rangers are looking into my case. They're trying to get me out of here."

"So why aren't I bowled over with excitement?" Mouse asked her. "I thought you'd be dancing a jig."

"It's pointless Mouse." She sighed. "I did it. I killed those guys..."

"You don't know that." Mouse replied. "You said yourself you haven't remembered everything."

"My hand was on the knife Mouse." She reminded her. "I fought with them, but because I was drugged I couldn't beat them."

"Dillon doesn't believe you were capable of that." Mouse told her. "Maybe you should have a little more faith in yourself."

"I don't know Mouse, I just don't know." She muttered under her breath. "I'd like to think I didn't kill them, but I just don't know. After what happened before...I just don't know how far I'd have gone to stop them."

"What happened before?" Mouse asked, realising what she had said. "You were attacked before?"

"It was a couple of years ago." Summer told her. "I thought I'd gotten over it, but this whole thing..."

"Summer, I've only known you a couple of days and I already know this much about you." Mouse stated flatly. "You would never have killed them if you had another option. I've met more than my fair share of cold-hearted killers in here, and I know for a fact that you're not like any of them."

"Thanks Mouse." Summer said, putting a hand on her shoulder gently. "I swear I'd have gone crazy by now if it wasn't for you."

"Hey, just give me your share of desert the next time its apple pie and we'll call it quits." She replied with a smirk.

"It's a deal." Summer replied. "Now, if we hurry we can get a shower before dinner. I swear I smell like week old diapers."

"You haven't sampled the joys of recycling duty yet." Mouse laughed. "If you think you smell now, wait until you've had to work the recycling yard."

Dillon arrived back in The Garage, finding Ziggy, Scott and Flynn sitting around with a stack of papers. He came over to them, taking a seat.

"How is she?" Ziggy asked him. Dillon shook his head sadly.

"She's surviving, but that's all I can say right now." He sighed in defeat. "I've never seen her so vulnerable."

"Is she OK?" Scott asked him. Flynn looked on sympathetically. So far he was the only one who knew how much this whole thing had been affecting the Black Ranger. Only he knew how much of his heart was invested in getting her out of this situation.

"She's a little roughed up." Dillon told him with a weak smile. "The other girls don't play nice. Nothing she can't handle."

Despite his casual tone and his reassurance to the others, his heart was breaking to think of her in that situation. She was a strong person, but he knew from the look in her eyes that she was close to the edge. No one could defend themselves 24 hours a day. One on one, he had no worries about her facing anybody. Of course it wasn't as if the other inmates would fight fair and he knew it.

"We found a connection between Stephen Walker and the three victims." Scott interjected. Dillon noticed the way he had shut himself off and focused on the task at hand. All along he thought he didn't care, but he could now see that wasn't the case at all. His eyes betrayed the fact that all he wanted was to go and bring Summer home, but he knew that wouldn't help her. He had directed all of that passion, all those feelings into his drive to investigate the case. "They were all inside together."

"They went to prison?" Dillon asked him.

"Stephen Walker was in prison for six months for the illegal production of moonshine." Scott informed him, "Paul White, Marc Gallows and Terry Boller were all serving a year for purchasing controlled substances. They were all assigned the same cell."

"I guess Stephen just neglected to mention that when he was questioned." Dillon said a little sarcastically. "So there's a chance whoever the fifth guy was met them in prison."

"I think that's as good a lead as we have." Flynn sighed sadly. "Other than that, there's no connection."

"Ziggy, you have contacts in the prison..."

"Dillon, I don't have contacts in prison." Ziggy interrupted him. "I have guys that either want to hurt me...or kill me very painfully."

"I guess that's true." He conceded. "I just hoped to find out if there was someone else they spent a lot of time with."

"I guess we've got a long night ahead of us." Flynn stated, getting up from the table. "I'll put on a pot of tea. I'll be right back."

"Scott, I wanted to say something." Dillon said as he picked up a pile of paperwork. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" He asked.

"I know we've bumped heads a few times." Dillon told him. "I'm not used to having to take orders. For a long time the only one I had to answer to was myself."

"I will admit that you haven't been the easiest guy to work with." Scott told him.

"Well the thing is, this thing's really done a number on me." He admitted. "I've been so angry and confused and....I guess I just didn't notice I wasn't the only one hurt by this. When you didn't go nuts like I did, I thought you didn't care about Summer. I was wrong, I'm sorry."

"Hey, we all care about her." Scott stated with a smile as he felt a connection to the Black Ranger he hadn't felt before. "She's been like a sister to me for longer than I can remember. All I wanted to do when the guards took her away was kick the living crap out of all of them and take her away, but I knew that wouldn't help her. The only way we can help her is to prove she didn't do this."

"You've never doubted her. Have you?" Dillon asked him. Scott shook his head.

"Not for a second." He replied.

Back at the prison, Morris had been called to the Warden's office. She stood before Ronan, her head hung low. She knew all too well his propensity for cruelty, and so she was more than a little nervous in case he decided she had done something to offend him.

"I understand you've been making our latest inmate feel welcome." He told her.

"We haven't gotten on if that's what you mean." She replied, fidgeting nervously.

"Well I didn't expect you would." He responded. He got up from his chair and stood nose-to nose with her. "I expected her to be broken by now."

"She's tough." Morris told him. "She's been close to breaking point a few times now, but that damned cellmate of hers, Mouse, has pulled her back."

"Mouse?" He asked curiously. "I didn't think she had any friends."

"She didn't until she came." Morris replied. "She actually punched me during the attack."

"She's never had the stones to look anyone in the eyes before, much less punch them." Ronan commented. "You're sure that she's the anchor keeping our favourite inmate going?"

"Undoubtedly." Morris told him. Ronan smirked and poured two glasses of whisky. He handed one to Morris and sat on his desk.

"I have to oversee the male wing this afternoon." He told her, sinking it in one swig. "I think it's been too long since Mouse paid a visit to the infirmary."

"I can change that." Morris replied. "How far do you want me to go?"

"Don't kill her." He instructed her. "But make sure she's out of the picture for a few days."

"No problem." She replied, drinking the whisky in one go. "She'll be eating through a straw by the time I'm finished."

Back at The Garage, the guys were going cross-eyed reading report after report about the time Stephen Walker had spent in prison. Dillon put down the report he was reading and rubbed his eyes wearily.

"I swear there has to be something we're missing." Dillon told them. "We've only narrowed this down to about four hundred people! It could have been anyone they were inside with. The prison has about a thousand inmates at any one time!"

"What about Guards?" Ziggy suggested. The others all looked around at him quizzically. "Look, the majority of stuff that happens inside is down to the guards. They're the only ones nobody watches too closely. Maybe we're looking at this all wrong. Maybe the other guy wasn't an inmate."

"You're a lot smarter than I thought." Scott said in a veiled compliment. "Maybe we should be looking at officers rather than inmates."

"Well there is one way we can narrow the field." Dillon suggested. "Stephen's in a cell right now. Maybe we should talk to him again."

"It beats the hell out of getting eye-strain from reading reports." Flynn piped up, pulling on his jacket. "Let's go."

Back at the prison, Summer had finished showering in the shower block, before putting on fresh clothes. She had never appreciated the simple joys of a warm shower so much before, but in this environment, it was heavenly. She arrived back at the cell to find Mouse lying on the floor, badly beaten and bleeding heavily.

"MOUSE!" She shrieked, rushing over and kneeling by her side, checking over her quickly. She had been stabbed in the stomach, and she had been badly beaten. "Mouse, what happened?"

"Morris." Was all she could say before finally succumbing to her injuries and passing out. Summer balled her fists in anger. This was because of her and she knew it. She walked purposefully from the cell and made her way to the mess hall. There, she found Morris sitting with half a dozen other prisoners, laughing and joking as she ate.

She grabbed a steel dinner tray and made her way over, smashing it into Morris' face, sprawling her across the floor.

She snarled, throwing the tray aside. The other inmates got up from the table. "Are you going to hide behind your cronies as always? Make sure we're under no doubt that you're a coward?"

"This one's mine ladies." She told her friends, gesturing them aside. "The Ranger bitch is mine!"

Meanwhile, over at the remand unit, Stephen Walker was sitting in his cell when Dillon and Scott came into the room.

"Hey, that guys a freaking psycho!" He screamed, gesturing to Dillon and retreating into the corner. "Get him the hell away from me!"

"Well, we only want to ask a couple of questions, and then we'll be out of here." Scott assured him. "We know that you, Paul White, Terry Boller and Marc Gallows were cellmates in prison."

"That was a long time ago." He said, his eyes never leaving Dillon. He remembered only too well his savage beating at his hands. His arm was still in a sling after being broken by the Black Ranger. "I didn't think it was important."

"Well we do." Scott informed him gruffly. "Was there anyone else you were close to inside?"

"No, we all kept to ourselves." He answered him. "It's the best way in there."

"What about guards?" Scott asked him.

"The screws?" he asked with a note of disgust. "Trust me, no one likes the screws."

"Dillon, I'm just stepping outside for a second." Scott stated. "Let me know if he becomes more talkative."

"NO WAIT!" He screamed as he realised that he would be alone in the cell with Dillon. "There was one guy we met inside. He processed our parole papers. He acted as our parole officer."

"He was the parole officer for all four of you?" Scott asked him. Stephen nodded. "What's his name?"

"Ronan Wells." He answered.

Back at the prison, Summer and Morris brawled back and forth in the mess hall as the other prisoners cheered on. Summer got the upper hand, sending Morris to the ground with a hard punch to the face. As she reached for her grounded opponent, Morris lashed out. She felt a searing pain in her side and looked down to see a large, open gash. Looking back to her opponent, she saw Morris holding a blood-stained shiv fashioned from a piece of broken glass.

"I'm going to cut you in half!" She spat in her anger.

"Go for it!" Summer snapped in response. Morris lunged at her, narrowly missing her with the blade as Summer dodged aside and hooked her arm. She twisted it painfully, just as she had been trained so long ago. She felt the bones snap under the pressure as she bore Morris to the ground. She turned her over to face her, before picking up the shiv and raising it overhead.

She looked into Morris' eyes and saw the unmistakable look of fear in her. She felt her mind being assaulted again by flashbacks to the night of the murders. She looked to the hand holding the shiv, covered in blood and got a vivid image in her mind. It wasn't a piece of glass, it was a knife. Her hand was on the handle as she looked into his lifeless eyes. She tried to pull it out, she tried so hard, but she just didn't have the strength.

"I didn't put the knife into his chest." She murmured to herself. "I was trying to pull the knife out."

She threw the shiv aside and held her head, closing her eyes to focus as more images came to her. She had thought it was a shadow before, something meaningless, but now she remembered. There was another man in the apartment. He was wearing a black hooded top, and she couldn't see his face. She remembered seeing him covered in blood with something in his hand. The knife.

"I didn't do it!" She muttered as she got off Morris' chest slowly. "I didn't kill them, he did."

At that, she felt a sharp blow to her kidneys and collapsed on the floor as the guards finally entered the room.

"Take Morris to the infirmary, Ranger girl here's broken her arm." One of the guards stated as he handcuffed Summer's hands behind her back. "The Warden wants to see her."

Summer was hauled roughly to her feet and led from the room. Before she knew it, she was back in Ronan's office. He waved the guards out of the room before gesturing her to take a seat.

"I told you before, how easy your life is depends on you." He taunted her, pouring himself a whisky. "If you continue to pick on the other ladies..."

"She hurt Mouse." Summer interrupted him. "Your guys did nothing to stop it!"

"Your friend will be fine in a couple of days." He informed her. "By the time you get out of the hole she should be back in general population safe and sound."

"You're sending me back to the hole?" She asked him with a defiant sneer. Ronan pulled a nightstick out of his desk drawer and held it menacingly under her chin.

"Don't test me girl." He hissed aggressively. "In here I'm God! I rule your existence. I decide what happens to you. I can make you hurt in ways you'd never imagine in your worst nightmares."

"Your breath's handling that already." Summer replied. Ronan sent her to the floor with a back fisted slap. He knelt over her and grabbed her collar, pulling her up to face him.

"Remember, I am God here." He sneered. Summer spat in his face. Ronan staggered away a little, before pulling out a handkerchief. As he looked back to her, Summer got a good look at his face, splattered with blood from the fresh split in her lip and she got the most vivid flashback yet.

She was back in the apartment, fighting for all she was worth when she felt blood splattering across her and saw the first of her attackers falling away. The man in the black hooded top had stabbed him in the neck. All she could hear was screams and all she could see was blood as he butchered the others. As he rammed the knife deeply into one of her attacker's ribcage, he fell to the bed. Tears stung her eyes painfully as she tried in vain to pull out the knife, somehow hoping that removing it would make him live. The stranger's hood slipped and she got a good look at his blood splattered face.

"It was you!" She shrieked as she came back to reality. "You killed them!"

"Have fun trying to prove it!" He sneered as he began beating her savagely with the night stick. A guard came into the room, finding Summer in a bloody, beaten heap on the floor and Ronan standing over her breathless from the exertion of the beating.

"Take her to the infirmary to stabilize her." He ordered. "Then she goes into the hole for a month. Restricted rations."

"But sir..."

"I'm the warden here!" He roared as the guard started to protest. "Do as I say or find another job!"

"Of course sir." The guard replied, picking Summer's unconscious body up off the floor. "Infirmary, then the hole."

"I'm glad we understand each other." Ronan snapped as he left. He poured himself another whisky and gulped it down quickly. He was sure the memory loss caused by the drugs would be permanent, but she now knew the truth.

"Who will everyone believe?" He said to himself as he poured another glass. "I own her."


	10. Justice

Summer came to in a punishment box. She heard a dry, hoarse voice screaming from the cell next to her, and only barely recognised it. It was Mouse. They were both in solitary. She heard Mouse's weak, pathetic whimpers and her pounding and a thought came to her. She had said she couldn't face being shut up in an office all day, she had freaked out at the very threat of going into one of the punishment boxes. She now knew what was wrong. She was claustrophobic.

She beat the side of her own cell rhythmically to try and attract Mouse's attention.

"Mouse, it's OK, I'm here." She assured her. "It's alright..."

"It's dark, I can't breathe..." Mouse responded, her breath rapid and forced. "I can't breathe!"

"Mouse, it's alright." Summer assured her. "You can breathe."

"No, I can't!" She screeched. In her mind, Summer could picture her clutching her knees to her chest defensively. "I can't breathe!"

"Mouse, it's alright." Summer said reassuringly. "Why don't you tell me more about Dr. Wardle?"

"John?" She asked weakly. Summer smiled as she heard this. Mouse wasn't exactly the most secure of people, and it was good to think that there was something she could hold onto.

"Yes, John." Summer replied. "Tell me more about him."

"He...he's really smart and funny." She stammered nervously as she thought about the man she had loved so dearly. "He's really good looking too. He's almost ten years older than me, but you wouldn't know it to look at him. He's got a really cute, childish sense of humour. He used to play stupid jokes on me all the time."

"It sounds like you really liked him." Summer responded.

"He was the first man that showed any interest in me." She replied. "He always made me feel really special."

"It sounds like you were made for each other." Summer told her.

"I really wish I could get out of here." She said in panicked gasps of air. "I've always hated small spaces, ever since I was a kid. The guards know I freak out when I get sent to the hole, that's why I keep my head down and try to stay under the radar. The guard love sending me here."

"It's OK Mouse, I'm here." Summer reminded her, placing a hand on the metal wall between the two cells in a wordless gesture of comfort. "It's OK, stay calm."

"Thanks Summer." Mouse replied. "I'd be going crazy about now if it wasn't for you."

"Hey, you've kept me sane since I got here." Summer told her. "I'd call it even."

Back at the Garage, Scott and the others came into the main room. Scott searched through some papers and found one, holding it up triumphantly.

"Ronan Wells became the prison warden after he left the service." Scott informed them, gesturing to the document. "He's been with Summer the whole time!"

"According to his employment record, he used to weigh 170 lbs when he was a training officer." Ziggy informed them. "However, not long after he left the military he was admitted to hospital with a broken jaw. He had it wired shut for six months and couldn't eat solids. During that time he lost 70 lbs."

"So he'd have been able to escape down the recycling chute." Flynn chipped in. "He has every reason to want to get Summer sent to prison. While she's in there, he has control over her."

"There's just one problem." Dillon informed them. "All of this is just theory right now. We have no way to prove he was in the apartment."

"We have no way to prove he has any connection to this at all." Scott sighed. "We need to be able to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was there, otherwise we'll never prove Summer's innocence."

"We need to get her out of there." Dillon stated flatly. "We can't leave her in there with Ronan. If he lays one hand on her..."

"We all feel the same way." Flynn assured him. "We're getting her out of there."

Back at the prison, the door to Summer's punishment box was thrown open and Ronan knelt down with her, admiring his handiwork. She looked at him in disgust.

"I bet right about now you're wishing you had just given in to me three years ago." He taunted her. She flinched away from him as he touched her face.

"Actually I was thinking that sitting in here is still preferable to letting you touch me." She replied.

"You really ought to be more respectful." He told her. "If I feel like it, I could leave you in here for the rest of your natural life. All I need to do is say the word and you won't see the light of day again."

"This is how you get your kicks isn't it?" She asked him. "It's never been about the sex has it? It's the control you get off on."

"What can I say? There's a sense of satisfaction in breaking someone's spirit." He told her. "There's nothing like the feeling you get when you look into someone's eyes and see them accepting that you hold all the power over them. It's an amazing rush."

"You're sick!" She hissed angrily. "I can't believe that anyone was ever fooled by you."

"Trust me; fooling people is the easiest thing in the world to do." He assured her. "People are so easy to manipulate. People are so quick to judge that it takes very little to turn them. Just look at what happened to you. You've done so much for them, and yet they turned on you. As far as they're concerned, none of those times you've saved them matters. All you are is a murderer."

"But you killed them!" She protested.

"Good luck trying to convince people of that." He laughed insincerely.

"You killed three men!" Summer said incredulously. "Three men are dead because you have a grudge against me? Do their lives mean nothing to you?"

"Of course they do." He answered her. "If it wasn't for them, I would never have been able to get you right where I want you."

"You'll never have me!" She snapped in her disgust. "You'll never break me!"

"Oh, it's only a matter of time." He told her, grabbing her collar. "And time is something I have plenty of. Before too long, you're going to beg."

Back at The Garage, Dillon and the others were looking through the evidence they had acquired. He still hated to think that Summer was in the prison, completely at the mercy of the man who had attacked her. He threw aside one of the files in frustration.

"We have to be able to prove he was there! We just have to!" He snarled as he ran his hand through his hair. "Everything else fits; we just need something to connect him to the scene."

"I think we've exhausted everything we can find out from paper." Scott stated. "I think it's time we went and had a word with Ronan Wells."

"Wait, hold on a minute!" Flynn protested. "I know the Colonel expects us to break a few rules, but I'm sure even he had his limits."

"Summer's completely at his mercy in there!" Dillon reminded him. "We have to stop him before it's too late!"

"Ziggy, you and Flynn search his office for anything that can help us. Dillon, come with me." Scott instructed them. "Summer's been in there too long already."

Back at the prison, Ronan opened the door to Summer's punishment box, before pulling her out into the courtyard. He handcuffed her hands behind her back and hauled her to her feet.

"It's time you and I went for a little walk." He stated, grabbing her by the collar and dragging her with him. She struggled to get away from him, but he was far too strong to resist. He shoved her into the elevator and activated the control to take her to the top floor.

"Where are you taking me?" She asked him.

"I just thought you should see the view from the roof." He told her. He dragged her up the stairs to the roof, before leading her to the edge. "It's amazing isn't it? Nearly a thousand inmates and I control every second of their existence."

"So what happens now?" Summer asked him. "Is this where I have an accident and fall off the roof?"

He grabbed her and shoved her over the edge, holding her precariously over the edge.

"I could always do that." He sneered at her, taking a sick pride in her fear. He threw her aside onto the roof. "No one would even care. I wouldn't even be questioned about it. Of course doing that would end your suffering too early. You don't get to be that lucky. You only die when I say so!"

"You're real brave when I'm in handcuffs aren't you?" She taunted him. "You're a coward Ronan, you always have been."

"I couldn't agree more." Scott stated as he and Dillon arrived on the rooftop. Ronan just smirked at them.

"I guess this is the part where you threaten to beat the hell out of me." He suggested, picking up Summer. He pulled out a blaster and held it to the side of her head. "You know you have no business here."

"Actually we do." Flynn told him as he and Ziggy arrived. He held up a bottle of pills. "We found these in your office. I'll bet that these are what you used to drug Summer."

"It took me quite a while to find something that would work through her system before she went to a tox screen." He told them. "I never expected her to remember what happened that night. Of course that's just going to make it more fun in the long run. How much d you think I love the fact that she's going to spend the rest of her life in here with me, when she knows who really killed them and can't do a damn thing about it."

"You're not going to get away with this." Dillon warned him, taking a step forward. He stopped in his tracks as Ronan deactivated the safety catch on his gun.

"Who's going to believe all of you over me?" He asked them in a mocking tone. "There's nothing to tie me to the scene of the crime. It's your words against mine; all you have is circumstantial evidence."

A tear ran down Summer's face as he pulled back some of her hair and smelled it. "You'll never prove that I did it. You're mine Summer, you've never been able to beat me."

"That would be where you're wrong." Scott informed him, holding up his morpher. "I hacked into the public announce system. Your confession's just been heard by every guard in the prison."

He looked out over the edge of the roof, seeing the guards and prisoners staring up at him from the yard. The game was over; he knew that Scott had told the truth. Any minute now, guards would storm onto the roof to arrest him.

"Back off!" He screamed, waving the gun around in his panic. "I may not have long left, but at least I've got enough time to break her before I get sent down."

"That's been it all along hasn't it?" Summer asked him, her expression turning from one of fear to sheer loathing. "This is all about me. It's always been about me." She turned to face him, looking at him down her nose at him.

"You've been in my nightmares for three years!" She snapped at him. "I always thought you had this power over me, but now I know the truth."

"You've always been mine." He told her. "I've owned you since..."

"The only power you've ever had over me is the power I've given you!" She shrieked at him. "You thought you'd break me like the others. You thought I'd never report you to Colonel Truman. You underestimated me, and that's why you're obsessed with me!"

"You were so pathetic..."'

"The real reason you've done this whole thing isn't just revenge. It's because you're afraid of me!" She continued to yell at him. "You couldn't break me then, and you haven't been able to break me now! You're the one who's pathetic! The only power you've ever had is the power I gave you by being afraid of you!"

"Shut up!" He screamed at her. "I'm in control, I have the power!"

"You have nothing!" Summer told him. "I'm not afraid of you Ronan, not anymore!"

Guards stormed onto the roof, levelling blasters in Ronan's direction.

"Don't shoot!" Scott ordered them. "You might hit Summer!"

"It's over Ronan." Dillon told him. "You're going down for this."

"You all think that this is over. If you think I'm going down for this, you're all sadly mistaken." He told them, looking Summer in the eyes, sending a chill down her spine. He sneered at her one last time. "Now I'll be with you forever. You'll see me every time you close your eyes. I'll be in every nightmare you ever have from now on."

With that, in his final act of defiance, he placed the blaster in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Dillon rushed over to her as his blood splattered across her face. He cradled her head to his chest as she wept hysterically. Ronan had stolen one last thing from her. He had escaped justice. He would never face trial for his crimes.

"It's alright, he can't hurt you now." Dillon assured her. "He won't be hurting anyone again."

Later in the day, Summer sat in Ronan's office as the head guard entered the room. Now that Ronan's deceit had been revealed, and he had committed suicide to escape trial, he was now in charge of the prison. He pulled out a key and unfastened the tracking collar from around her neck, removing it. Summer stroked her neck gently as the collar was removed. It felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from her as he put the collar on the desk.

"Your conviction has been overturned." He informed her. "You're free to go."

"Thanks." She replied weakly. Dillon put his arm around her, holding her closely as she continued to stare at her blood-splattered t-shirt.

Mouse came into the room, being accompanied by a guard. She looked around at the Rangers and the guards nervously.

"They said you had been released." Mouse greeted her. "Why did you want to see me?"

"We did a little research into your case." Flynn informed her. "Summer asked us to look into it."

"Your conviction has been overturned." Scott informed her, unlocking her tracking collar and removing it. "We've caught the real perp."

"You caught the real thief?" Mouse asked him. "I thought the money was untraceable..."

"It was." Scott informed her. "But the fraudster made a big mistake. He spent the money. It was your old boss, Dr. Wardle."

"When we looked him up, we noticed he lived in Cresswell heights, kind of a nice neighbourhood on a librarian's salary." Flynn informed her. "He claims that he got a large inheritance from his late mother, but when we checked up, we found out that she died years ago."

"We also found out that he and his wife had a baby girl a couple of years ago." Scott explained to her. "It seems his marriage isn't as unhappy as he made out."

"He used me?" Mouse muttered under her breath as her heart broke. "He never loved me?"

"He encouraged you to do those online courses so that the authorities would believe you could have hacked the education authorities' accounts." Scott informed her. "He used your account to make it look like you did it. He set you up."

"I loved him." Mouse whimpered, wiping away some tears as she realised his betrayal. "I thought he loved me. Instead all he wanted was someone to take the fall for him."

"We picked him up a couple of minutes ago." Flynn told her. "He sang like a canary when the guards started interrogating him."

Summer gestured to Mouse to come over, and hugged her warmly. She knew what it was like to have her faith dashed cruelly by a man she should have been able to trust. Mouse straightened her glasses.

"Thanks Summer." She told her. "I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you for this."

"Maybe you could tell me your real name?" Summer suggested. "I'm pretty sure it doesn't say Mouse on your birth certificate."

"Jennifer." She replied with a small smile. "My name's Jennifer."

"I like it." Summer replied. "Take care Jennifer."

"I will Summer." She replied. "Stay in touch."

Later in the night, the Rangers were celebrating back at The Garage when Colonel Truman came in.

"Summer, I heard that you were released." Colonel Truman greeted her with a warm hug. "You have no idea how grateful I am that you were cleared."

"I really wanted to thank you for having faith in me." Summer responded. "It meant a lot to me that you believed in me."

"I always would Summer." He assured her. "Of course it's the other Rangers that did the real work to clear your name."

"I really wanted to thank you all for everything you did." Summer told them, fidgeting with her hair nervously. "I was sure I was going to die in there. I almost gave up so many times."

"We never doubted you for a second." Dillon told her cheerfully.

"I just really wish I hadn't been so weak back then." She said sadly. "If I had just reported him back then, if I had made a complaint then none of this would have happened."

"You can't blame yourself for this." Scott stated flatly. "You were a teenager when he attacked you; you've grown so much since then. You couldn't have gone through with it then."

"But if I had just made a complaint back then, maybe those three guys wouldn't have died." She whispered.

"Ronan was a sick, twisted man." Dillon assured her, holding her closely. "He can't hurt anyone else."

Summer felt a little warmer as she enjoyed the sensation of being in his arms. She looked into his eyes and felt herself smiling.

"Um...Dillon, can I talk to you for a minute?" She asked him. "You know, in private?"

Dillon put down his drink and followed her out of the room. As they arrived outside, Summer looked to her shoes for inspiration and bit her lip nervously.

"Dillon, it really meant a lot to me that you believed in me." She told him. "I had my doubts about myself. When I had that flashback of my hand on the knife I was certain that I'd done it, but you never doubted me."

"I know you couldn't have done that to anyone." He replied, holding her chin with his hand. "You're no killer."

"There were so many times I just wanted to give up." She told him. "I almost did, but it was you that stopped me. Dillon, you're the one that gave me the strength I needed to carry on."

"Summer..."

She cut off his words by placing a couple of fingers on his lips, which she quickly replaced with her own. Kissing him deeply, she parted a little way from him. Her heart beat faster as she waited nervously for him to say something.

"Summer, the reason I never gave up was because you mean so much to me." He told her, reaching an arm around her and pulling her towards himself. "Summer, I love you."

"I love you too." She replied, looking deeply into his eyes. Dillon smiled and drew in closer, kissing her once more. Flynn came out to see what they were talking about and smiled.

"I knew I was right about those two." He said quietly to himself as he turned and left quietly, giving them privacy. Summer settled into Dillon's arms and smiled. Ronan had taken so much from her for so long; she couldn't believe that it was all over. She felt completely safe and secure in his arms. He would never hurt her, he would never take advantage of her, and he would always protect her. Ronan had taken from her everything he could, and she still survived through it all. He had been the embodiment of her nightmares, but now that was all he was. He was wrong. She would never think of him again. He had no power over her anymore.

Now she could look forward to what lay ahead for her with Dillon by her side.

Fin.


End file.
